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SELECTIONS 



THE POETICAL WORKS 



JOHN MILTON 



WITH INTRODUCTION, SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY, 
NOTES, AND GLOSSARY 



EDITED BY 



ALBERT PERRY WALKER, M.A. 

MASTER, AND TEACHER OF ENGLISH AND HISTORY IN THE 
ENGLISH HIGH SCHOOL, BOSTON 



BOSTON, U.S.A. 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 

1900 

h. 



DISS'S 



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NOV 6 1900 

Cop vr^;r.- <«try 



t>ti%«^^ COPY. 

U»^ilVt)i«! to 

OHGLti DIVISION, 

DEC 6 1900 



Copyright, 1897, 1900, 
By D. C. Heath & Co. 



PREFACE. ^ 

Up to the present time it has been a somewhat 
general custom in American secondary schools to 
Umit the study of Milton's works to the first two 
Books of Pai^adise Lost. The result of this has 
been that the pupils, approaching a poem written 
on a subject and in a style with which they are un- 
familiar, and reading a fragment from the middle 
of a narrative with the beginning and end of which 
they have no acquaintance, form a wholly errone- 
ous estimate of the character and interest of Mil- 
ton's work taken as a whole. The tendency above 
mentioned has unfortunately been strengthened by 
the selection of those two Books as a part of the 
requirement in English for admission to colleges, 
since teachers who prepare pupils for college are 
always solely tempted to limit their instruction 
strictly to the matters absolutely required for ad- 
mission thereto. A wiser and broader educational 
spirit would lead them rather to welcome in such 
a requirement the opportunity to undertake as 
careful and comprehensive a study of the work 
of the greatest EngUsh poet as is possible to 
pupils of secondary school age. It is such a com- 



iv PREFACE. 

prehensive study that this book is designed to 
facilitate. When I undertook, some time ago, to 
prepare a volume of selections from Milton's poems 
for use in secondary schools, I was influenced to 
do so by certain definite convictions in regard to 
the highly beneficial results to be achieved by 
introducing pupils in secondary schools to the 
fuller study of Milton's poetry. I beHeved that 
as a specific result of such study pupils might 
become intimately acquainted with Milton's best 
poetic work, and that as a general result they 
might learn to comprehend and to appreciate at 
least five distinct poetic types of the highest im- 
portance, each of which possesses its own peculiar 
historic and aesthetic interests ; viz. the epic, the 
simple lyric, the sonnet, the pastoral elegy, and 
the masque. I was therefore led to make the 
selections extensive and varied in character, in 
order to exhibit as far as possible the range of Mil- 
ton's powers, and, at the same time, to give to the 
whole group (and especially to the selections from 
Paradise Lost) the effect of completeness. 

In regard to the method of editorial treatment 
suitable for such a volume, my convictions were 
equally definite, being the fruit of the experience 
of a decade in teaching Milton to large classes of 
pupils. As I have already voiced these convic- 
tions in the preface to an earlier volume contain- 
ing selections from Paradise Lost only, I will 



PREFACE. V 

venture to repeat here the portion of that preface 
which bears upon the question of annotation. 

" Between every poet of the past and his readers of to-day 
there naturally arise barriers to complete community of thought 
and feeling, due to the different points of view from which 
they contemplate the same facts ; for every man's outlook 
upon life is modified by the mental habit of his time, his 
expression by the linguistic peculiarities of his time, his 
aesthetic canons by the prevailing tastes of his time. In the 
case of John Milton, these barriers between the author and 
his readers in secondary schools are especially difficult to 
surmount. His Latinized language is an unknown tongue 
to the youth of the present day. His elevated style, with its 
involved sentence structure, sounds unfamiliar to their ears. 
His whole mental atmosphere, permeated by Puritan the- 
ology. Mediaeval and Renaissance science, and classical aes- 
thetics, is an atmosphere in which they are unable to breathe 
freely. How shall these barriers be removed, and pupils thus 
limited be enabled to read with comprehension and apprecia- 
tion the works of the greatest English poet? 

" Two methods of study are now in use in secondary 
schools, each finding advocates among teachers of literature. 
Either the pupil reads the text with notes appended, these 
notes aiming to elucidate whatever passages may be obscure ; 
or, with only the author's text in hand, he seeks in a reference 
library the information requisite for the comprehension of its 
meaning. 

"The first-mentioned method is pedagogically unsound 
for at least two reasons. It leads the pupil to exercise his 
memory to the almost entire exclusion of comparison, selec- 
tion, reflection ; and the notes present facts apart from their 
relations to one another, whereas it is the characteristic of a 
trained mind that it contemplates all facts in their relations. 
A subtle evil effect of studying texts thus annotated is seen 
in the conception which the pupil forms of what constitutes 



vi PREFACE. 

the study of literature. He comes to believe that he knows 
the poem when he has memorised the inatter contained in the 
notes, whereas he is merely ready to know the poem. An 
equally deplorable practical effect is the fostering of bad 
habits of study. Instead of reading the text with care, refer- 
ring to notes only for aid in resolving perplexities that arise 
in the mind during the reading, the pupil often yields to the 
temptation to work from the notes backward to the text (in 
order to save time), believing that passages to which notes 
are not appended may be assumed to be clear. 

" The second method, claimed by its advocates to develop 
the power of original research, I believe to be both practically 
and theoretically objectionable in the case of an author like 
Milton. Even were reference books abundant in our schools, 
the expenditure of time required for the consultation of dic- 
tionaries, encyclopaedias, and histories, on merely the facts 
absolutely necessary to the comprehension of Milton^s thought, 
would be wholly out of proportion to the results obtained ; 
and the pupil's exhausted energies would prohibit any enjoy- 
ment of the aesthetic element in the composition. The ej'ror 
in theory made by the extreme advocates of the method of 
original research is that they assume that jnan caiinot with 
profit avail himself of the labors of his fellow-niaji, but 7nnst 
rediscover the whole domain of knowledge for himself. The 
most disciplinary and fruitful subjects of research in connec- 
tion with the study of Milton would seem to be those which 
are ordinarily treated most fully by editors ; namely, matters 
relating to his life, the political and religious history of his 
times, and his indebtedness to writers that preceded him." 

In arranging this book, two aims have been kept 
in view: (i)to economize the pupil's time and 
strength by enabling him to use wisely the results 
of other men's industry, to the end that he may 
approach the study of Milton's poetry with a 



PREFACE. vii 

mind prepared to comprehend and to enjoy it; 
and (2) to make both the preparation and the sub- 
sequent study contribute to his power to read any 
Uterature whatever that is akin to Milton's work. 
To attain these ends the necessary information is 
inckided in an introduction, in which facts have 
been systematized as in an encyclopaedia, while 
definitions and derivations have been relegated to 
a glossary. Notes referring to special passages 
have been employed only for such suggestions as 
would guide the pupil's thought, and lead, but not 
carry, him into a knowledge of the works of our 
greatest English poet. These notes deal especially 
with the three elements of poetry emphasized in 
the present college requirements in English, — 
matter, structure, and style. Much more of Para- 
dise Lost has been included in the text than is 
required for admission to any college, in the hope 
that the pupil may be tempted to read further 
from interest alone. The selections have been 
made with a view to securing unity of subject and 
continuity of narrative, while exhibiting as ade- 
quately as possible Milton's widely varied powers 
of poetic composition. They treat of the principal 
events in the career of Satan, and include, besides 
the events immediately following his expulsion 
from Heaven (as narrated in Books I. and II.), 
the War in Heaven which caused his fall, the 
Creation of the World to serve as an abode for his 



viii PREFACE. 

destined successors in God's favor, his Adventures 
while in search of the Earth, and his Ultimate 
PiuiisJmient in Hell. Of the Minor Poems, all 
the more important single poems and the entire 
group of Sonnets of the regular type have been 
included. 

It is recommended that those using the book 
first devote some time to a rapid study of the 
introductory matter, as a preparation for the study 
of the poems as literature, and as an historical 
survey of the characteristic ideas of Milton and 
the literary traditions of his times. When by this 
means the pupil has prepared himself to approach 
Milton's works with a mental equipment not un- 
like that of the readers to whom the author origi- 
nally addressed himself, let him make the poems 
themselves the sole object of his study (thence- 
forth referring to the explanatory matter only 
where his memory fails him), striving ever to con- 
template them as the imaginative and impassioned 
expression of noble thought, enriched with melody, 
and inspired by a consecrated purpose. 

ALBERT PERRY WALKER. 
Boston, August, 1900. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Preface iii 

Works for Reference xii 

Introduction to the Study of Milton's Works: 

Milton's Purpose ........ i 

Milton's Achievement 2 

Milton's Life (Outline) 4 

Suggestions for the Study of Poetry .... 7 

Seventeenth Century Ideas 17 

Physical Science . . . . . . .18 

Astronomy ........ 22 

Superstitions • • 33 

Mythology 35 

Classic Legends 58 

Religious Conceptions 67 

PARADISE LOST: 

Editor's Introduction ....... 89 

Book 1 95 

Book II 125 

Book III. 1-76; 416-742 165 

Book IV. 1-113 183 

Book VI. 189-356; 524-892 189 

Book VII, 192-568 2TI 

Book X. 504-547 227 

ix 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Notes on Paradise Lost 232 

Introduction to the Minor Poems 251 

HYMN ON THE NATIVITY: 

Editor's Introduction 257 

Text 261 

L' ALLEGRO and IL PENSEROSO : 

Editor's Introduction ....... 272 

L' Allegro 277 

II Penseroso .. 283 

COMUS : 

Editor's Introduction 290 

Text 297 

LYCIDAS : 

Editor's Introduction ....... 336 

Text . 341 

SONNETS : 

Editor's Introduction 348 

Text 350 

Notes on the Minor Poems ...... 359 

Glossary 372 

Index 39^ 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Portrait of Milton . 


Frontispiece 


^The Four Regions of the Uni 






VERSE .... 


J.B.Poole . 


70 


* The " Star-led Wizards " . 


/. Portaels . 


262 


"'DiviNEST Melancholy" . 


W. C. Thomas . 


284 


The Education of Comus . 


From a Greek Vase 


297 


^ClRCE 


J. H. Waterhouse . 


299 


• The Lady in Comus . 


/. D. Crittenden . 


305 


^ Ludlow Castle . 


J. M. W. Turner 


332 


^Faun, Satyr, and Pan Pipes 


Harriet Hosmer . 


342 



MAPS. 



The World (Diagram of the Ptolemaic System) ... 26 

Classic Lands 86 

The Holy Land 87 

Sion 88 

Egypt and Sinai 88 



WORKS FOR REFERENCE. 



Chiefly Biographical. 
Life of Milton. 

1. By David Masson. (6 vols., Macmillan.) An exhaustive 

vi^ork, useful for the investigation of special topics. 

2. By Mark Pattison. English Men of Letters Series. 

(Harpers.) 

3. By Richard Garnett. (Scribner.) 

4. By Stopford A. Brooke. Classical Writers Series. (Ap- 

pleton.) These works, each in one volume, set forth 
the facts of Milton's life, especially as related to his 
literary work ; but they aim chiefly at a critical dis- 
cussion of the character and value of that work as 
judged by modern standards of literary criticism. 

5. By Samuel Johnson. In Lives of the English Poets. 

Similar in aim to 2, 3, and 4 ; but it applies the stand- 
ards of a formal and conventional school of criticism, 
now obsolete, and it is further invalidated by the 
expression of numerous purely personal judgments 
upon many matters in regard to which Johnson was 
not a competent critic. Useful for comparative study 
only. 

Poetical Works of John Milton. (3 vols., Macmillan.) The 
Introduction contains biographical and critical matter 
of great value, an especial feature being an elaborate 
study (not entirely trustworthy) of Milton's versifica- 
tion. 
See also Milton's Youth in Masson's Essays (see page xiv). 
xii 



WORKS FOR REFERENCE. xiii 

Chiefly Critical. 

1. A Critique on Paradise Lost. 

By Joseph Addison. (Reprinted from The Spectator?) Like 
Johnson's Life of Milton, above mentioned, these 
papers exhibit the tendency to academic formalism 
in criticism characteristic of the eighteenth century, 
when all critical judgments were based on canons 
derived from classic sources ; but the author avoids 
Johnson's serious errors by reason of his finer dis- 
crimination and his keener aesthetic sensibility. 

2. Essays on Milton. 

a. By Matthew Arnold. In Essays in Criticism, Second 

Series. 

b. By Walter Bagehot. In Literary Studies, Vol. I. 

c. By A. Birrell. In Obiter Dicta, Second Series. 

d. By Edward Dowden. In Transcripts and Studies. 

e. By James Russell Lowell. In Among My Books; or, 

Prose Works, Vol. IV. 
/ By Thomas Babington Macaulay. In Essays, Vol. I. 
g. By E. Scherer. In Essays (translated by G. Saintsbury). 

3. Lectures on Shakespeare and Milton. By Samuel Taylor 

Coleridge. 

4. Remarks on the Character and Writings of John Milton. 

By William Ellery Channing. • 

General. 

Among books not exclusively devoted to Milton's works, 
which yet contain much suggestive criticism of value to students 
of Milton, are the following : — 

History of English Literature. Arnold. (The Elegy, p. 

443 f-) 
History of English Literature. Brooke. (Ch. V.) 
Handbook of Poetry for Students of English Verse. Gummere. 

(The Epic.) 



WORKS FOR REFERENCE. 

History of ihe Literature of Europe. Hallam. (Pt. IV,, 

ch. V.) 
Lectures on the English Poets. Hazlitt. 
Essays, chiefly on the English Poets. Masson. 
Lntroduction to English Literature. Pancoast. (Ch. IL) 
Lectures on the British Poets. Read. 
The Poetical Interpretation of Nature. Shairp. 

Many historical works contain brief but able discussions of 
Milton's work in its relation to the political and social con- 
ditions by which it was shaped. Of especial value are the fol- 
lowing: — 

Gardiner's The Puritan Revolution. 

Greene's Short History of the English People. 

Macaulay's Histojy of England. (Stuarts.) 

The pupil's imaginative conception of the man, Milton, may 
be made more real and human, and the facts of his personal 
history be more easily retained in the memory, if his life in 
London and elsewhere be traced with the aid of such works as 
Hare's Walks in London, Howitt's Homes and Haunts of Brit- 
ish Poets, and Hutton's Literary Landmarks of London. Of 
especial value in visualizing these facts is the use of such a map 
as the " Aggas Map of London, 1560," published by Cassell & 
Co. to accompany their Old and New London. 



INTRODUCTION. 



NOTE. 

Throughout this book, references by numbers alone relate to the 
numbered paragraphs of the matter treating of the characteristic 
ideas of Milton's time, which is found on pages 17 to 85 inclusive. 



MILTON'S PURPOSE. 

" He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write 
well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a 
true poem ; that is, a composition and pattern of the 
best and most honourable things ; not presuming to sing 
high praises of heroic men and famous <;///> j-, unless he 
have in himself the experience and the practice of all 
that which is praiseworthy." 

Apology for Smectymnuus. 

" I began thus far to assent ... to an inward prompt- 
ing which now grew daily upon me, that by labor and 
intense study (which I take to be my portion in this 
life) joined with the strong propensity of nature, / might 
perhaps leave something so written to after times, as they 
should not willingly let it die. ... I applied myself to 
fix all the industry and art I could unite to the adorning 
of my native tongue ; not to make verbal curiosities to 
that end — that were a toilsome vanity — but to be an 
interpreter and relater of the best and sages t things among 
mine own citizens throughout the island in the mother 
dialect. . . . 

"... Lastly, whatsoever in religion is holy and sublime, 
in virtue amiable or grave, whatsoever hath passion or ad- 
miration in all the changes of that which is called fortune 
from without, or the wily subtleties and refluxes of man's 
thoughts from within : all these things with a solid and 
treatable smoothness to paint and describe ; teaching over 
the whole book of safictity and virtue, through all the 
instances of example y 

Reason of Church Government. 



INTRODUCTION. 



MILTON'S ACHIEVEMENT. 

Three poets in three distant ages born, 
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. 
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed; 
The next in majesty; in both the last. 
The force of nature could no further go. 
To make a third, she joined the former two. 

JOHN DRYDEN. 

Nor second He, that rode subhme 
Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy 

The secrets of the Abyss to spy : 
He passed the flaming bounds of Place and Time : 
The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze 
Where Angels tremble while they gaze, 
He saw; but blasted with excess of light, 
Closed his eyes in endless night. 

THOMAS GRAY. 

Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : 
England hath need of thee : she is a fen 
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, 
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, 

Have forfeited their ancient English dower 
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; 
O, raise us up, return to us again; 
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power ! 

Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : 
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was Uke the sea; 
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, 

So didst thou travel on life's common way. 
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart 
The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 

WII.IJAM WORDSWORTH- 



THE STUDY OF POETRY. 



SUGGESTIONS FOR THE STUDY OF POETRY. 

In every work of art the indispensable requisite is 
harmony, a quality which may be manifested in the 
relation of subject to form and treatment, and of each 
part to the whole. Poetry is characterized by the blend- 
ing of at least three special elements, in the mutual rela- 
tions of which harmony must be exhibited : the subject 
of poetry must be of a character worthy of artistic ex- 
pression, the treatment must be imaginative, the form 
must be rhythmical. Besides these general features, 
each poem has an individual structure, partly the result 
of the free choice of the author, partly determined by 
the nature of the subject and the purpose of the compo- 
sition. Subject, purpose, structure, and rhythmic form 
determine the class to which the poem belongs, and this 
in some degree determines its style and appropriate 
method of treatment. The student who learns to ob- 
serve these elements in a poem thereby enhances his 
enjoyment, while developing his power of judgment and 
acquiring a correct taste in literature. 

He must therefore train himself to observe the general 
subject of treatment in any work or passage, the immedi- 
ate subject under discussion, and its relation to the gen- 
eral one. He must note the order in which the minor 
subjects succeed one another, and the logical basis of 
that order. 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

For example, the trained reader observes, at the very first read- 
ing, that the subject of the first book of Paradise Lost is Satan's 
masterly rallying of his followers from their condition of utter rout, 
beginning with his rebuke to Beelzebub for his weakness, and end- 
ing with his denunciation of war against Heaven. He notes that 
this main subject is introduced only after some preliminary explana- 
tions, and is followed by matter connecting the main subject of 
Book I. with that of Book II. He notes the successive subdivisions 
of " cause," " place," " condition," " appearance," etc. He notes 
that the cause is treated in logical development from the basal 
thought previously mentioned, that the place is treated by means 
of descriptive " word-painting," that the state of mind of the char- 
acters is exhibited often through the quotation of their own words, 
and that extended illustrations are introduced here and there. 

To apply the same process of analysis to a short passage, let us 
examine Satan's first speech to Beelzebub (^P. L. I. 84). In 
reading this the trained observer quickly perceives that the speech 
centres upon the thought of change suggested to Satan by his first 
glance at his comrade. He traces the logical progress from the 
thought? of the latter's changed appearance to that of their changed 
condition and its cause, then to Satan's unchanged mental attitude 
towards God, then to his scorn of such a change of attitude, then 
to his prophecy of a change of fate to come, etc. 

One result of this training is to develop the faculty of 
attention, and thereby to enable the memory to retain 
what has been read, and to reproduce it with fulness and 
clearness. Speaking broadly, we may say that this train- 
ing gives mastery over the matte?- and over the structure 
of a poem. A second result is to form correct mental 
habits in the pupil, through the force of conscious or 
unconscious imitation. The writers of great literature 
are persons whose mental powers are especially orderly 
in their operation. The pupil who habitually observes 
the above-mentioned features of their work and exercises 



THE STUDY OF POETRY. 9 

himself in reproducing their thought in similarly logical 
arrangement cannot fail to find his own process of thought 
more accurate and more orderly. 

The work of great writers is not only orderly in 
thought ; it is also effectively expressed. One great 
means of effectiveness in expression consists in the skil- 
ful use of variety, or contrast. Successive portions of a 
poem must vary in treatment, and the student must learn 
to notice the transition and judge whether it be abrupt 
or unobtrusive. But the chief aim must be to learn to 
recognize that vital element of good writing which is 
called style. The more obvious elements of style are the 
kind and quantity of ornamentation, the character of 
the words selected, and the prevailing type of sentence 
structure and word arrangement. The quintessence of 
style, however, resides not in these externals, but in a 
subtle harmony of thought and expression pervading an 
entire work ; a quality which is not discoverable by 
analysis, but must be recognized through its effect upon 
the aesthetic faculty. The power to perceive the pres- 
ence of this quality may best be developed by the re- 
peated reading of passages which manifest it in the 
highest degree. The pupil, therefore, must Hsten ever 
as he reads for the harmonies of line with line ; of form 
with content ; and of all with the theme, and with the 
purpose of the author. The results of this training are 
to increase his ability to enjoy, to quicken his power of 
discrimination, and ultimately to refine his nature. 

In his use of ornament Milton exhibits marked pecu- 
liarities. His work deals with scenes and persons that 
are in a sense the creations of his own brain. Of neces- 



lo INTRODUCTION. 

sity, he would rely upon abundant illustrations drawn 
from human experience to make clear to the reader 
these imaginative conceptions. As his own experience 
had lain much in the world of books, we find these similes 
to be based rather upon the fabled experiences of the 
heroes of the ancient and the mediaeval world than upon 
those of daily life. In them he imitates Homer and 
Virgil, who were fond of elaborating their illustrations 
with an abundance of picturesque detail, but Milton is 
often superior to them in the appositeness of these de- 
tails to the main thought. 

The celebrated simile of the leaves in Vallombrosa {P. L. I. 302) is 
an example. The original element of similarity lay in the countless 
numbers of the leaves and of the angel forms, but as the author's 
mind dwelt on the picture it had formed, other points of similarity 
grouped themselves around the first. The motion of the leaves 
upon the huddling waters of the brook where they had fallen from 
their proud station above, their faded appearance, — although lately 
so beautiful in their autumnal colors, — the gloomy overarching can- 
opy of mighty trees, — all seem marvellously suggestive of the state 
of the reb^l angels. 

We have applied to a formal illustration the name 
Simile. There are a few other kinds of poetic adorn- 
ment the importance of which necessitates some special 
study of them by the pupil. First in order is the Meta- 
pho7', in which the poet applies to some object of thought 
the name of another object of thought which resembles 
it in some especial manner. His purpose in using the 
figure is to please by the beauty of the thought suggested 
or to impress by the striking character of the resemblance 
indicated. 



THE STUDY OF POETRY. ii 

For example, Milton speaks of his poem as if it were a bird 
soaring high in air {P. L. I. 14), because the suggestion of a like- 
ness between objects in most respects so diverse seems to him 
a beautiful thought. Again, he calls the glossy slag that encrusts 
the slope of a volcanic hill a scurf, not because the likeness sug- 
gested is beautiful, but because it adds vividness to our mental 
image of the object described. 

The second figure is Synecdoche. In this the under- 
lying principle is that of substituting for the general name 
of an object of thought the name of some special portion 
of it, by which means the mental image is given more 
definite outhnes than it would have if the name of the 
whole object were used. 

For example, in P. L. I. 203, Milton speaks of a whale as slum- 
bering on the " Norway foam." Note the suggestiveness of this 
word " foam " as compared with any general word for the sea. 
The turbulent winds that drive the fisherman to seek for shelter, 
the illusion of breaking waves that assists the belief that the object 
perceived is an island, the impression of the peaceful shelter ^'■under 
the lee,'' are all suggested by this single synecdoche. 

It is evident that the use of this ornament aids in securing 
condensation in the style. 

A third kind of figurative expression is Metonymy. 
In this, as in the others, a substitution of names takes 
place, but the objects involved are related not through 
resemblance or through partial identity, but through 
habitual association in thought. As such associations are 
very largely the result of special intellectual training, the 
figure is less intelligible to the general reader than either 
of the others previously mentioned. Milton, because of 
his great learning, is prone to its use. 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

For example, in P. L. I. 15, wishing to call up in his readers' 
minds an image of the splendid epics of the Greek poets, and to 
assert his intention of surpassing them, he declares that his song 
intends to soar " above the Aonian mount." The reader's compre- 
hension of this passage is conditioned upon his knowing that the 
Greek poets claimed to be inspired by Muses who dwelt on Mount 
Helicon, which was situated in a district of Boeotia in Greece called 
Aonia. If the phrase just quoted provokes this series of associated 
ideas in his mind, he perceives that it has been substituted for the 
phrase, " above the works of the Greek poets." 

This figure is employed, like synecdoche, to please 
the mind by its rich suggestiveness, and by its ap- 
peals to man's inherent love for symbohsm, but unless 
sparingly used it is likely to produce obscurity in the 
style. 

The last kind of figurative adornment that we shall 
consider is the Transferred Epithet, a favorite ornament 
with Milton. In this figure, a descriptive word whose 
application is clearly evident from the context is trans- 
ferred from its normal place in the sentence and made 
to modify grammatically some word which it does not 
really qualify. An instance occurs in P. L. I. 120, where 
it is clear that it is the anticipated '' war " that is thought 
of as "successful," and not the "hope" (to which the 
adjective is grammatically related). This figure, like the 
others, lends condensation to the style, and reflection 
upon all four will make clear wherein lies the force and 
the beauty of imaginative expression, 

" Where more is meant than meets the ear." 

We have mentioned as elements of style diction and 
sentence structure. The student should train himself (i) 



THE STUDY OF POETRY. 13 

to observe the character of the words habitually used by 
Milton, asking himself whether they are native to the 
English language or importations, are learned or collo- 
quial, are chosen for directness of import or for subtlety 
of suggestion, and (2) to note foreign idioms, unusual 
turns of expression, and inversions of the natural order 
of sentences. He thus gains in appreciation of how lan- 
guage may be made more expressive by art, and gains 
in that power over his fellow-men which comes from 
effective speech. 

As the rhythmic form is the attribute which especially 
distinguishes poetry, it is necessary for the student to 
keep that element constantly within the sphere of his 
observation. The technical knowledge required for its 
appreciation is very hmited in amount. In brief, it is 
necessary to know that rhythm is based on recurring 
stresses or accents in spoken words, and since certain 
groups of stressed and unstressed syllables bear special 
names for convenience of reference, it is also necessary 
to learn to recognize the leading groups by name. One 
of these groups is called a poetic foot, and a definite 
number of feet constituting a single Hne of poetry is 
called a verse. 

Verses are named from their predominating foot, and 
their normal number of feet. The feet most frequently 
used by English poets are the Iambus, consisting of an 
unstressed followed by a stressed syllable, and its coun- 
terpart in reverse, the Trochee. Next in importance 
come the AnapcEst, consisting of two unstressed syllables 
followed by a stressed syllable, and its counterpart in 
reverse, the Dactyl. 



H INTRODUCTION. 

These four types are exemplified in the initial feet of 
the four following lines : — 

Iambus, — Of Man's | first disobedience and the fruit — 

/ \^ 
Trochee, — Favored | of Heaven so highly, to fall off — 

Anapaest, — Shook the Ar|senal and fulmined over Greece — 

Dactyl, — Myriads | though bright — if he whom mutual league — . 

These four kinds of feet form the theoretical basis of 
all Milton's versification. Where he seems to use feet of 
two unstressed or of two equally stressed syllables, it is 
generally evident either that one of the two is of pre- 
dominant importance in the thought, or that it is followed 
by a natural pause in utterance which lends to it an arti- 
ficial importance. The foot thus resolves itself into an 
iambus or a trochee. (The word " stress " has been 
employed in preference to the common term " accent," 
because it comprehends within its scope syllables made 
prominent by the delay attending their pronunciation, as 
well as by the force with which they are uttered.) 

Milton employs in his minor poems iambic dimeter, 
trimeter, tetrameter, pentameter, and hexameter. His 
favorite lyric form is iambic tetrameter, which he varies 
by very frequently omitting the initial (unaccented) sylla- 
ble of the first foot. His favorite measure for more 
dignified work is iambic pentameter, which he varies 
by occasionally adding an extra (unaccented) syllable 
after the fifth foot. It must be noted that the verse is 
named from its predominating foot, but rarely does a 
verse contain nothing but this kind. Adopting five 



THE STUDY OF POETRY. 15 

iambic feet, for example, as a basis of construction, the 
poet exchanges one, two, sometimes three of these for 
other kinds, skilfully distributing the substituted feet in 
different parts of successive verses, so as to produce a 
pleasing variety of accent, to enhance the expressiveness 
of the language, and yet never to take away the distinc- 
tive movement of the measure. The art of the versifica- 
tion consists in the ''aptness " of the distribution of the 
feet, in connection with the immediate subject of thought. 
The versification of Paradise Lost is of the type known 
as blank verse. Its normal line consists of five iambic 
feet, and therefore contains ten syllables. An extra un- 
accented syllable appears not infrequently at the end of 
a line, thus giving it what is called a weak ending. 
(See P. L. \. 38.) The substitution of a dactyl or an 
anapaest for the normal foot would also increase the num- 
ber of syllables to eleven, and this variation often occurs. 
In this connection it is to be noted that the use of the 
different feet is so skilfully regulated that the movement 
is hastened or retarded in harmony with the sentiment 
expressed. If, in addition to this, words are selected 
whose consonant and vowel sounds are also in harmony 
with the thought, we have the device called Onomato- 
poeia, which is used to intensify the impression made 
upon the reader's mind. For example, in the passage 
P. L. I. 169-177, the trochee ^'wing'd with'' at the 
beginning of verse 175, by its powerful stress on the first 
syllable when the mind naturally expects an unaccented 
syllable, suggests to the ear the extreme velocity with 
which the lightning shafts begin their flight, and then the 
broken, jerky movement of the rest of the verse, the hiss 



i6 INTRODUCTION. 

of the ^'s in the verse that follows, the vibrant quaUty of 
the consonant and liquid sounds, and the sonority of the 
open vowel sounds in line 177, — all aid in stimulating 
the reader to reproduce in his imagination the sight and 
sound of a lightning flash and its succeeding roar of 
thunder. 

The pupil must ever be on the alert to notice these 
brilliantly written passages, in which Milton excelled 
because of his natural bias towards the grandiose, and 
for which the nature of his subject offered abundant 
inspiration. 

One element which adds greatly to the effect of versi- 
fication is the varied distribution of pauses throughout 
the verses of the poem. A natural and marked pause in 
the sense occurring anywhere except at the end of a verse 
is called a ccBsura. It is a characteristic of Milton that 
he distributes these pauses with the utmost skill, employ- 
ing them to give variety to the verse and at the same 
time to lend emphasis to the thought. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 17 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 

I. The poems of Milton were addressed to a public 
that was assumed to be conversant with certain groups of 
facts in history and science, with certain literary forms 
and traditions, and with certain general ideas of the 
nature and characteristics of the world and its inhabi- 
tants (human and superhuman). The student of to-day 
who hopes to read these works intelligently must strive 
to reproduce imaginatively within his own mind as far 
as possible the mental state of those readers to whom 
Milton consciously addressed his works, that by so doing 
he may be able to judge what the words of Milton con- 
note, as well as what they denote. He must exchange his 
thought of this unlimited Universe filled with miUions of 
suns sweeping through space with inconceivable velocity, 
each possibly attended by its world of planets, — a Uni- 
verse in which the earth and its inhabitants seem of only in- 
cidental importance, — for the thought of a World of very 
limited extent, composed of a few concentric shells or 
spheres, enclosed in a rigid encasing firmament, and exist- 
ing only for the use of mankind. He must close his eyes 
to the work of modern geographers, and think of this 
round earth as did the immediate successors of Magellan 
and Drake. He must discard history and substitute 
legend. Above all, his imagination must be peopled 
with figures from the past, — from Greece, from Pales- 
c 



i8 INTRODUCTION. 

tine, from Mediaeval Europe, — from the world of fact and 
the world of fancy. The following pages are intended to 
aid him in this backward metamorphosis. 

Physical Science. 

2. In 1620 Francis Bacon published the Novum 
Orgaimm, in which were first clearly enunciated those 
principles of scientific induction which have ever since 
guided the research of the investigator in every depart- 
ment of knowledge. Without the tests of validity therein 
laid down, science, as a body of known truths, could not 
exist at all. And when Milton wrote, not enough time 
had elapsed since the publication of Bacon's work to 
allow of much progress in the correction of former errors 
or in the establishment of a body of newly discovered 
truths. Consequently, his works reflect the traditions 
and assumptions of the mediaeval period, which were the 
results of much acute, but more hasty observation, and 
of ingenious speculation and reasoning, many of them 
bearing the authority of long acceptance among the 
learned, but all untrustworthy because founded on un- 
sound premises. 

3. In physics and chemistry, gravitation, as a uni- 
versal tendency of portions of matter towards other por- 
tions, was as yet unknown to science. Objects in space 
were assumed to exist in the relation of up and doivn 
(not in relation to some centre, but absolutely), and to 
possess the inherent tendency to seek a lower position 
under the influence of their own weight whenever they 
were not supported by some external force. Thus all 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 19 

matter, if left to itself, would become distributed at suc- 
cessive levels in space according to its weight. 

4. Matter was conceived as atomic in structure. The 
number, size, form, and other physical characteristics 
of the atom can best be learned by reading P, Z. II. 
898-906. Atoms were thought to be subject to four pri- 
mary forces or principles, — " Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry." 
By these forces, acting upon the atoms either singly or 
in conjunction and with various degrees of intensity, the 
innumerable objects of the natural world were conceived 
to be built up. Since the forces were four in number, 
objects would naturally fall into four classes, of which 
earth, air, water, and fire were taken as types, solids in 
general being considered as earthy, gases as airy, etc. 
The four typical substances were generally known as the 
"elements"; hence arose the expression "In his ele- 
ment," meaning " In that element in which he naturally 
exists and thrives" (as a fish in water, or a man in 
air). The expression " The element" was used distinc- 
tively of the air, as the chief in importance owing to its 
relation to man, the central object of interest in the 
universe. 

5. In accordance with the law stated above, the elements 
would tend to assume certain positions relative to one 
another ; fire, the most subde and refined, ever mounting 
upward, earthy substances ever seeking a lower level. 
Therefore the upper regions of the world, though un- 
known because inaccessible to man, were assumed to be 
composed of the purest form of matter, called by Milton 

fie7-y essence or (from the Greek word for fire) empyreal 
substance. We should conceive of this substance as re- 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

sembling fire, not in its attribute of heat, but in its sub- 
tlety, delicacy, purity, and brilliancy. A fifth substance, 
called ether, had found place in the speculations of the 
earliest philosophers, and was generally known as the 
quintessence. This was the purest form of matter con- 
ceivable by man, and was supposed by them to fill all the 
regions of space not occupied by the grosser substances. 
Milton seems to have used the words '^ ethereaP' and 
^^ empyrear' as synonymous. 

6. Among soHds the metals have always been of prime 
importance to man, and certain phenomena common to 
them all (such as their greater relative weight, their gen- 
eral appearance in nature in the form of sulphates and 
sulphides, and their behavior when brought into contact 
with mercury) early led to the behef that all metals 
were co7npounds of mercury and sulphur in different p7'o- 
portions, gold being the compound most perfectly pro- 
portioned. This belief led to the attempt to convert 
base metals into gold by blending with any given metal 
some compound containing the exact quantity of sulphur 
and mercury needed to correct the misproportion in the 
baser metal and the chemicals fitted to promote the mys- 
terious blending process. This hypothetical compound 
was sought by all students of chemistry for many cen- 
turies, and the study pursued with that end in view was 
called Alchemy. (Later, an amalgam used in making 
musical instruments was also termed alchemy, by me- 
tonomy.) 

The dream of the alchemist was that he should ulti- 
mately succeed in compounding in his alembics or re- 
torts a solid of mercury and sulphur perfectly blended 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 21 

and " potentized " by mysterious processes, in which heat 
was the principal agency employed, — a substance that 
should be capable of transmuting other metals from their 
baser condition into gold pure as itself. This hypotheti- 
cal substance received the name of the Philosophef's 
Stone. The alchemist's second quest was for an "elixir" 
capable of sustaining and prolonging life indefinitely ; 
this was sometimes called Potable Gold, because in it 
the perfect substance, gold, must of course play a chief 
part. 

7. A study so fascinating, a possibility so attractive, could 
not hold the attention of the world for many centuries 
without leaving a permanent impress upon its language. 
Thus we find Milton referring to the attempt to " bind 
volatile Hermes" (mercury), and depicting the action 
of ^tna in eruption as that of an immense '' limbec " in 
which the contents are "sublimed" {i.e. vaporized) 
"with mineral fury." Milton conceived that the crea- 
tion of the World consisted in bringing the atoms of mat- 
ter contained in that portion of space which the World 
occupies, under the sway of the four primary forces; and 
that their orderly and harmonious interaction, as ex- 
hibited in the World-processes everywhere manifest 
(which processes formed the subject of the alchemist's 
researches), was maintained through the direct control of 
the Creator. This reference to the World as occupying 
only a portion of space leads us to an examination of 
Milton's astronomical conceptions. 



22 INTRODUCTION. 



Astronomy. 

8. From the second until the sixteenth century all 
ideas about astronomy had been shaped in accordance 
with the system propounded by Ptolemy, an astronomer 
of Alexandria, in his Almagest. The theories pro- 
pounded in this system represent the garnered know- 
ledge and speculation of all students of astronomy up 
to the time of Ptolemy (about 150 a.d.). The main 
features of his system, together with the physical facts 
on which it was based, are embodied in the following 
brief statement. 

The Ptolemaic Theory. 

Since vision is Hmited in every direction, and it is 
impossible to conceive of a boundary beyond which 
space does not exist, the early astronomers were led to 
believe that all that portion of space visible to man was cut 
off from surrounding space by an opaque spherical boun- 
dary. The earth seems to occupy a central position within 
this enclosing sphere and hence received the distinctive 
name of " The Centre." To the casual observer the heav- 
enly bodies appear to move uniformly about the earth 
once in about twenty-four hours, without changing their 
positions with relation to one another, and this fact was 
most simply accounted for by the assumption that these 
bodies were set rigidly in a sphere, which by revolution 
upon its axis bore them along in unchanged relations ; 
hence their name of " Fixed Stars." Being irregularly 
distributed, and exhibiting various degrees of brightness, 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 23 

they naturally form well-defined groups whose principal 
stars suggest to the imagination the oudines of various 
objects in nature. In the course of time the entire 
sphere of fixed stars has become divided into such 
groups, recognized by astronomers, and called " Con- 
stellations." (See 12.) 

9. But closer observation has shown that there are a 
few heavenly bodies whose positions relative to their com- 
panions are continually changing. Thus when a fixed star 
has moved through an arc of 360° and has returned to 
its original position in the sky, these bodies are seen to 
have moved relatively faster or slower, and to occupy a 
position in advance or in the rear of their original posi- 
tions. From this circumstance they early received the 
name of "Planets" (= wanderers). Seven such bodies 
were known to Ptolemy, and their motion was explained 
by the assumption that each was situated in a separate zone 
or sphere, which had its own rate of revolution. At first 
it seemed that all the heavenly bodies revolved about a 
single invisible axis passing through the centre of the 
earth, and moved with great regularity, but certain pecul- 
iarities of motion later discovered led to the additional 
assumption that invisible crystaUine spheres existed just 
outside the sphere of the fixed stars, and exerted a dis- 
turbing influence upon the motion of the spheres within. 
These crystalHne spheres were conceived by mediaeval 
astronomers to be the "waters above the firmament" 
mentioned in Genesis i. 7. They therefore employed 
the word "firmament" as a technical expression for the 
sphere of Ike fixed stars, considered as a firm, transparent 
foundation for the crystalline ocean, but Milton employs it 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

in its more common signification as a general name for 
the entire visible heavens. Tlie crystalline region would 
serve to protect the inner system from possible disturb- 
ance caused by the action of the forces in outer space 
upon the bounding sphere (see 8), as well as to modify 
the motion of the inner spheres. Irregularities still later 
discovered compelled astronomers to assume that the 
axes of the planetary spheres did not pass through tht 
earth, and led to fhe conception of eccentric motion.^ 

10. It was believed that the outer bounding sphere was 
in rapid motion, and hence it received the name " Primum 
Mobile " ( = first moving) . Its motion was communicated 
by friction to the crystalline spheres within and then 
(somewhat modified) to the sphere of the fixed stars and 
the planetary spheres. Thus every sphere had an individ- 
ual motion, resulting from the modifying influence of the 
motions of all the rest.^ In the accompanying diagram 

1 I.e. circular motion that is uniform but does not appear so to 
the observer, because he is not situated at the centre of the circular 
path. In P. L. III. 575, Milton probably employs the word in its 
original Latin sense of from the centre, declaring that Satan's route 
to the sun from the point where he chanced to be may have been 
towards or from the pole ("up or down"), towards or from the 
earth (" by centre or eccentric "), or along the ecliptic (*' by longi- 
tude"). [See II, and diagram, p. 26.] 

2 A most beautiful conception was suggested to the imagination 
of poets by the contemplation of the planetary motions. Must not 
their swift and even swing through the all-embracing ether give rise 
to rapid vibrations, and therefore to musical tones? Must not 
these tones, harmonious in pitch and exquisite in quality, ever 
resound in the ears of the gods, though imperceptible to our grosser 
senses? No other imaginative conception has taken firmer hold 
of the minds of the poets than this of " The music of the spheres." 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 25 

(see p. 26) the order of the spheres and the names of 
the planets are indicated ; the planets are represented in 
hypothetical positions, in order to illustrate certain situ- 
ations to which Milton makes reference. 

1 1 . The most important of the seven so-called planets 
is the sun, whose light swallows up that of all other 
bodies in its vicinity. Its motion is apparently slower 
than that of the fixed stars, and it therefore seems to 
fall back among them from day to day, until in a year it 
has made one complete backward circuit of 360° in a 
path somewhat inclined to the celestial equator. This 
path is called the "ecliptic" (see 9, foot-note), and 
the points where the ecliptic intersects the celestial 
equator are called the " equinoctial points." The sun 
reaches these two points about March 21 and Septem- 
ber 23 respectively. When its beams thus " culminate 
from the equator," its light is distributed equally on 
all parts of the lighted hemisphere of the earth at the 
same distance from the equator, and day and night are 
equal in length all over the world, whence the name 
" equinox." The frequency of violent storms at those 
seasons has given rise to the still current traditions of 
the "equinoctial" or "line storm." Milton, however, 
probably employs the phrase equinoctial winds {P. L. 
n. 637) to mean simply equatorial or trade winds, by a 
species of metonomy. 

12. Since the paths of all the seven planets lie within 
a belt of the heavens occupying eight degrees each side 
of the ecliptic, this belt has received the distinctive name 
of "Zodiac." It was early divided into twelve portions, 
called " Signs of the Zodiac," corresponding to the succes- 



26 



INTRODUCTION. 



^^itATjM mo:bixj> 




The World as represented in Paradise Lost.i 
Section in the plane of the echptic. 



1 Note that (a) the eccentricity of the planetary orbits is exag- 
gerated, in order to render it apparent to the eye ; (i^) the positions 
of the planets are so chosen as to illustrate situations to which 
Milton refers ; (<:) the dotted circles represent simply limits beyond 
which the planets never pass (Milton conceived the spheres as 
zones in the firmament [see 9] without material .boundaries) ; 
(^) although the sun's motion is always from east to west, yet 
since his motion is slower than that of the fixed stars, he appears to 
move backward among them, making a complete circuit of the 
zodiac once in 365+ days. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 27 

sive months of the year and each containing one impor- 
tant constellation. These, and constellations in general, 
were made use of in locating the positions of heavenly 
bodies. Thus Milton refers to a comet in Ophiuchus, 
the sun in Taurus, etc. Those mentioned in these selec- 
tions are the following : — 

Andromeda. — A constellation lying a little above 
Aries, named from the maiden in Greek mythology whom 
Perseus rescued from a sea-monster. (See below, Cas- 
siopeia.) 

Aries (The Ram). — The name of the first sign of the 
zodiac, counting from the vernal equinox, and of the con- 
stellation originally ^ occupying that sign. The latter 
was supposed by the Greeks to represent the Ram 
that bore the Golden Fleece (see 57). In his head is 
seen a star of great brilHancy, placed just beneath the 
foot of Andromeda {P. L. III. 558). 

Cassiopeia. — A constellation lying between Andromeda 
and the north pole of the heavens. It is named from a 
queen of Ethiopia who boasted that she was more beauti- 
ful than the Nereids (see 50). Neptune at their request 
sent a sea-monster to ravage the coast, and Andromeda, 
the queen's daughter, was exposed on a rock to appease 
his hunger, but was rescued by Perseus, who with the aid 
of the head of Medusa (see 52) transformed the monster 



1 Since the original division of the zodiac into signs was made 
(about 150 B.C.), the equinoctial points, and therefore the several 
signs, have receded along the ecliptic about 30° or one whole sign. 
Consequently, the twelfth constellation, Pisces, now lies in the first 
sign, Aries. 



28 INTRODUCTION. 

into a rock. All the human actors in this drama were 
afterwards transformed into constellations. 

Cynosure (The Lesser Bear) . — The constellation 
which contains the pole star, and is, therefore, suggestive 
of guidance. Milton calls it the " Tyrian Cynosure " in 
allusion to the fact that the earliest navigators to employ 
its aid were the Phoenicians, whose principal seaports were 
Tyre and Sidon. The Greeks fabled that Callisto, an 
Arcadian nymph bound to virginity by her vows to Diana, 
bore a son, Areas, to Jupiter. Diana in punishment trans- 
formed them into bears, and Jupiter, to save them from 
huntsmen, transferred them to the skies, where they still 
shine as the Greater and the Lesser Bear. Since Areas 
was the grandson of the king of Arcady, Milton calls the 
pole star in the Lesser Bear the " Star of Arcady." ^ The 
Greater and the Lesser Bear lie so far to the north that 
in Milton's latitude they do not sink below the horizon 
and are therefore visible throughout the night. 

Libra (The Scales). — Formerly the seventh constel- 
lation in the zodiac, and therefore used by Milton with 
Aries to denote its extreme eastern and western limits 
as seen from the pole i^P. L. IIL 558). 

Ophiuchus. — A constellation of great size, represent- 
ing a man grasping a serpent. It lies on and just above 
the equator. Since Milton places it in the arctic sky 
and employs it especially to create' in the mind an 

1 I cannot agree with those who interpret this phrase as the con- 
stellation of the Greater Bear. The form of the phrase and the 
context clearly indicate that the thought is of a single guiding point, 
and the word " or " seems to me to introduce not another object of 
thought but another expression for the same object. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 29 

image of an object of great length, he probably includes 
in his thought of it the Serpe^it held by Ophiuchus, which 
is, strictly speaking, a separate constellation. The Ser- 
pent winds its way for a long distance among the other 
northern constellations. 

Orion. — The most brilliant constellation in the heavens, 
representing a hunter equipped with belt, sword, club, 
and shield. It Hes on the equator south and east of 
Taurus. (See below.) 

Taurus (The Bull) . — Formerly the second constella- 
tion in the zodiac, representing in outhne the horns, head, 
and shoulders of a bull. It is of especial interest because 
it contains a very beautiful group of seven stars, called 
"The Pleiades," which from the earhest times have aided 
mariners to find their way over the seas, and which were 
credited by astrologers (see 16) with exerting a benign 
influence upon the earth. 

As the sign Taurus is the second, counting from the 
vernal equinoctial point (see 11), the sun traverses it 
during the second month of spring {^P. L. I. 769), re- 
maining in it from April 19 to May 20. 

13. It will be observed that if the sun, earth, and 
moon should assume the relative positions indicated in 
the diagram (p. 26), the sun would cease to be visible 
from a certain portion of the earth's surface. The sun 
under these conditions is said to be in eclipse. Although 
astronomers early discovered the cause of eclipses, in 
the popular mind they were held to be ominous of evil, 
and to bring evil fortune to any undertaking entered 
upon during their continuance. 

14. As the planets are visible only when they occupy 



30 INTRODUCTION. 

a position at some distance from the sun, each planet 
will appear sometimes in advance of the sun in the 
morning sky, sometimes following the sun at evening. 
It is called evening or morning star accordingly. Venus 
— being at times an especially notable object in the 
west at twilight, because its brilliancy makes it visible 
when the light of the other heavenly bodies is still lost 
in that of the sun — received from the ancients the dis- 
tinctive name of '' Hesperus " or The Evening Star. In 
the diagram (p. 26), Venus is represented in its tradi- 
tional character as " evening star," closely following the 
sun and therefore visible in the west at sunset. When, 
in another part of its course, it appeared in the morning 
in advance of the sun, it was called "Lucifer" or the 
" Light-bringer." 

15. The myriads of fixed stars and the planets together 
comprise all the bodies commonly visible in the heavens. 
At irregular intervals, small bodies of matter (of which 
space contains vast numbers) enter our atmosphere un- 
der the influence of gravitation, and, becoming heated 
by the friction caused by their rapid motion through 
the air, present the appearance of lines of fire. 

These bodies are called meteors or, more popularly, 
shooting stars. Other luminous bodies of greater size, 
called comets, appear in the sky at rare and apparently 
irregular intervals. These bodies are notable for their 
form, like a ball of fire, from which generally streams 
a train of flame. As the causes of meteors and comets 
were unknown to the ancients, their appearance in the 
sky was interpreted as a warning from God of some 
dire calamity threatening a monarch or a state. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 31 

16. Furthermore, each planet was supposed to exert 
on human beings an influence corresponding to the char- 
acter of the Greek deity from whom it received its name. 
This influence was beneficial or harmful, powerful or weak, 
in its effect upon any individual, according to the position 
of the planet in the heavens at his birth. For example, 
two planets 180° apart (as are Mars and Saturn in the 
diagram, page 26) are in their most unfavorable position 
or " aspect," and their '' influence " is especially malign, 
because their rays act in '' opposition " to one another. 

Certain of the fixed stars and constellations, also, were 
held to affect earthly events when in some dominant 
position. For example, Orion (see 12), which oc- 
cupies such a position with respect to the sun during 
the season of the so-called "equinoctial storms" (see 
11), was held to be the direct cause of the violent storms 
that often usher in and close the winter, and that so well 
befit his martial character. Sirius, a fiery and malignant- 
looking star, by acting in conjunction with the sun in the 
late summer, was held to cause the parching heat which 
shrivels and blackens all vegetation. The psetido-'s>c\tnct 
dealing with the influence of the heavenly bodies on 
human life and character is called astrology, and many of 
its terms have won their way into common speech, such 
as " influence," " saturnine," " ill-starred." " Disastrous," 
a word of Greek origin equivalent to '' ill-starred," probably 
retains in Milton's poetry this astrological implication. 

The Copernican Theory. 

17. In 1543 Copernicus, by publishing to the world 
his theory that the sun, not the earth, is the body about 



32 INTRODUCTION. 

which the planets move, laid the foundation for a more 
correct science of astronomy. Galileo, a Tuscan as- 
tronomer, by applying the already well-known properties 
of lenses to the purposes of astronomical study, was able 
to construct an astronomical telescope by the aid of 
which the theories of Copernicus were corroborated, all 
the planets were shown to shine like the moon by light 
reflected from the sun, and inequalities upon the surface 
of the moon were observed. The latter (now held to be 
the craters and jagged walls of extinct volcanoes) were 
long supposed to be mountains, plains, rivers, and lakes. 
At the time when Pai-adise Lost was composed the Co- 
pernican theory had become the one preferred among 
the learned, but Milton seems to have felt that its truth 
was not wholly demonstrated, and therefore felt free to 
adopt for his poem the Ptolemaic system as the one 
more capable of poetic and dramatic treatment. The 
chief advantage of the latter theory was that it gave full 
rein to the imagination in regard to this region outside 
the Primum Mobile. Since no eye had ever penetrated 
that opaque barrier, Milton, seizing upon the hint con- 
tained in the Biblical phrases ''ascend into Heaven," 
*' cast down to Hell," could represent both Heaven and 
Hell as located in outer space, the one above, the other 
below the World. ^ An account of these regions will be 
more comprehensible if given in connection with an ex- 
amination of the religious and theological behefs of his 
time. (See 70.). 

1 The tendency to confound certain terms shown by many editors 
of this poem suggests a word of caution in regard to the use of the 
expressions, "The Universe," "Heaven," "The World," "The 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 33 



Superstitions. 

18. A curious witness to the growth of scientific 
knowledge since the time of Milton is the subsequent 
decay of superstitions then universally accepted. His 
references to witchcraft in general and to local tradi- 
tions of the supernatural are numerous. The acknow- 
ledged supreme goddess of witchcraft, since the days of 
the Greeks, had been Hecate ; but each country of 
Europe had its own demonology. The malignant Norse 
Night-hag {P. L. H. 662), whose abhorred rites required 
the shedding. of infants' blood ; the more harmless Welsh 
Mab, whose- petty annoyances punished slovenliness in 
maids, and who deigned to accept their propitiatory 
offerings of junkets set out at night for her delectation 
i^L Allegro, 102) ; the Enghsh Will-o'-the-Wisp, whose 
characteristic was merely mischievous delight in leading 
travellers astray with his mysterious lantern,^ — were all 

Earth." The Earth is man's abode, a sphere of a few thousand 
miles in diameter, ultimately accessible in every part. The World 
is this sphere plus its enclosing spheres, the latter being knowable 
only through the faculty of vision, and limiting the operation of 
that faculty. The Universe is this World plus all space outside 
and its contents, including Heaven, Hell, and Chaos. Heaven as a 
proper noun (and therefore employing the initial capital) means 
the region in the Universe set apart for the abode of the Deity. 
In such phrases as " heaven and earth " (/*. L. II. 1004) the word 
"heaven" is a common noun, meaning the encircling firmament 
or sky (see P. L. VII. 274). As this contains many spheres, the 
plural form, " heavens," is frequently used. 

1 Milton seems to confuse him with another imp of the same 
type, called Friar Rush. 



34 INTRODUCTION. 

familiar to Milton's contemporaries and were implicitly 
believed to exist. So, too, was Mab's counterpart of the 
opposite sex, the drudging goblin (or hobgoblin), who 
at times made mischief for the farm laborers, but if pro- 
pitiated with a bowl of cream would perform the work of 
several men in a single night. At night, for at break of 
day every visitant from the other world must seek his 
hiding-place. Ghosts might revisit ''the glimpses of the 
moon," but never brave the stare of the sun. 

19. The moon, indeed, is naturally associated with 
witchcraft, since Hecate is at times identified with Diana, 
goddess of the moon — probably because of the many 
mysterious transformations which it undergoes. Witches, 
it was said, could cause some of these changes. For 
example, they could bring about an eclipse of the moon, 
or could draw it out of its course, towards the earth 
{P. L. 11. 665 and I. 785). The sports of fairy elves 
seem more suited to the peaceful character of a moon- 
light night, however, than do violent or evil deeds ; and 
Milton himself is more interested in the kindlier spirits, 
the beautiful and playful creatures that haunt forest and 
stream, than in the " meddling elf" that blasts the farmers' 
crops {Comiis, 846), the "unlaid ghost" whose unatoned 
sins forbid him to rest quietly in the grave (^Cojhus, 434), 
or his fellow-shade that cannot bear to abandon the body 
which has ministered to his sensual pleasures. Religion 
had its share in these superstitions, as witness the myth 
of the Archangel Michael referred to in Lycidas, 161. 
On the southern coast of Cornwall is a rocky promontory 
now called St. Michael's Mount. Here, the Angel was 
once seen by some hermits, seated in a natural stone 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 35 

chair, gazing seaward, where lay (far away to the south, 
but faintly visible, according to local tradition) " Naman- 
cos and Bayona's hold," on the coast of Spain. Milton 
interweaves that tradition with another local one of a 
Cornish giant whom he names Bellerus, from the ancient 
Latin name of Land's End, the scene of his exploits. 

It was a common matter of religious belief that the 
angels whose revolt from God's authority forms the sub- 
ject of these selections, after imprisonment in Hell, 
escaped to the Earth, where they became demons inhabit- 
ing the four elements (see 4) and later won over mankind 
to worship them in the guise of heathen gods. This notion 
is the result of an engrafting of such Scriptural references 
as that to the " powers of the air " upon the Platonist 
doctrine of " demons " or spirits occupying different 
regions of the World, as the depths of the earth, the 
atmosphere, etc. 

20. Milton's allusions to current superstitious behefs 
are numerous, yet they are too unimportant to admit of 
their fuller treatment here. The student must simply be 
quick to perceive in such a reference as that to the icnliicky 
kftsido. {P. L. IL 755), or to magic numbers like seven, 
nine, and three, an appeal to his reader's traditional ideas 
of the supernatural significance of things now deemed of 
no importance. 

Mythology. 

21. Milton's mind was stored with the mythologies of 
Greece and Rome as they appeared in the works of the 
classic poets. These mythologies were not fixed and 
consistent in form, but conceptions originally crude were 



36 INTRODUCTION. 

developed and modified by each successive poet in such 
a way as to embody the results of his own reflection upon 
the phenomena of Hfe. Thus in Milton's works we meet 
with various forms of the same legend, from the primitive 
one to his own modification thereof.^ 

Myths in their primitive form probably embodied the 
literal behefs of men of the earliest ages, to whose child- 
like minds (for example) the assumption that the storm 
cloud or the darkness of night was a veritable dragon that 
swallowed up the sun was the simplest explanation of the 
phenomenon of the daily disappearance of that body. 
But as men developed moral perceptions and aesthetic 
tastes, there gathered about such bits of primitive scientific 
explanation encrustations in the shape of additional de- 
tails intended either to account for the existence of such 
supernatural beings as the dragon above mentioned (imag- 
inary genealogies of the gods), or to adapt them to the 
uses of art (romantic fictions), or to employ them in the 
expression of moral ideas (symbolism) . In any given age 
all these features of the myth w^ere probably present, but 
each affected the conceptions of people of a certain 
type only. 

The uneducated classes, for instance, may have believed that the 
sun was an archer named Apollo, who rode daily through the 
heavens, and who was the son of the ruler of that region. The stu- 
dent of science of the same period believed that the sun was a 
luminous body of matter endowed in some manner with the power 

1 The accounts of the various myths here given will be those 
employed by Milton, and it need not surprise the student to find 
them, in some respects, different from the accounts given in some 
works of general reference. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 37 

of motion, and having its origin in the unknown but all-powerful 
source of all things. He was content to express the first fact under 
the image oi personality, and the other under the image oi parent- 
age. The poet and moralist saw in the sun a proof of beneficent 
care over the universe conjoined at times with stern discipline to 
mankind, and seized upon the glory, the beauty, and the terror of 
the sun to adorn his poem or to point its moral. The events were 
ascribed to localities exhibiting suitable characteristics, local heroes 
and local legendary happenings were interwoven with the original 
myth, confusion of language distorted its original form, and the 
result is an incongruous mixture of elements, some significant of 
deep thought, some picturesque only, some so crude as to be unin- 
teresting or repulsive. 

Ancient Cosmography. 

22. The primitive Greeks conceived the sky to be a 
solid arch, supported in some way at the outer edge of 
the earth. As their knowledge of the earth's surface was 
limited to a circle of a few thousand miles' radius, they 
supposed it to be a flat, disc-like expanse of land, bounded 
on all sides by water. They conceived the ocean to be a 
stream girdling the earth, fed by the rivers flowing from 
the land into the great basins of the Mediterranean and 
the Black seas. To the overarching sky was given the 
name of Uranus (Heaven), to the solid disc the name 
Gaia, or Terra (Earth), to the ocean stream the name 
Oceanus. What lay below the disc they did not know, 
but they imagined that there lay a vast region of unbroken 
darkness (for they supposed the sun to rest from his 
labors when he reached a point below the horizon, and 
not to traverse the space below). To this region, em- 
ployed by the gods as a dungeon, was given the name 
Tartarus. 



38 INTRODUCTION. 

23. When the idea of the continued life of man's spirit 
after the death of the body had developed, they conceived 
that above the dungeon of Tartarus lay a sort of under 
world, called Hades, inhabited by the spirits of the dead, 
the approach to which lay through cavernous passages in 
the earth's surface. As the ethical conceptions of reward 
and punishment after death developed, the entire lower 
region became in thought subdivided into Elysium (the 
abode of the souls of the good), Tartarus, (formerly the 
dungeon of the gods, now used as a place of punishment 
for the souls of the wicked), and other regions of less 
importance. By successive poets imaginative details 
were added to this meagre account. The cavernous 
opening in the earth's surface through which lay one 
approach to Hades was said to be guarded by monstrous 
forms, notably by a huge three-headed dog, Cerberus, 
whose jaws dripped poison, whose hair was formed of 
snakes, whose body terminated in a dragon, and whose 
roar struck terror into the mind of the hearer. After 
passing this monster and traversing a difficult descent, 
the visitor would find his passage barred by the Styx, a 
dark and sluggish stream (or rather labyrinth of creeks 
and inlets) encircling nine times the realm of Hades. 
Other rivers channelled the abode of the dead, — Acheron 
( = woe) , a river of muddy and bitter waters ; Cocytus 
{= lament), a tributary of the Acheron ; Phlegethon ( = 
burn), whose banks were scorched and blackened by 
fire. In the portion assigned to the souls of the blessed, 
called Elysium, flowed the Lethe (= forget), a drink 
from whose waters dispelled care and destroyed all 
memory of the past Hfe. Plato described the blessed- 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 39 

ness of life in the Elysian Fields so eloquently that Cleom- 
brotus is said to have committed suicide after reading 
the description, in order to enter at once upon the 
enjoyment of that life. The ruler of the entire space 
below the earth was originally Erebus, but afterward 
Hades (called Orcus by the Romans) assumed control 
there. (See 30 and 31.) 

24. With the elaboration of myths Tartarus became 
gradually peopled with condemned souls, to invent suit- 
able punishments for whom the poets exercised their 
fancy. Tantalus, King of Lydia, for example, was said 
to have killed his son and served his flesh as meat at 
a banquet at which the gods were his guests, in order to 
test their divinity. They were alleged to have avenged 
the insult by placing him in Tartarus, in the presence 
of a feast forever unattainable. Boughs of trees laden 
with fruit which hung over his head swung out of his 
grasp ere he could pluck ; and the water in which he 
was plunged to his chin sank ever as he lowered his lips 
to drink. 

25. As early man could conceive of no action except 
as originated and directed by an indwelling life like that 
which dominated his own body, the Greeks believed that 
in clouds, streams, trees, winds, earthquakes — in fact, 
in all the phenomena of nature — there was manifested 
the voUtion of indwelling spirits, to which they gave 
appropriate names. 

The Romans, with like conceptions, created a mythol- 
ogy so similar that the poets are in the habit of using 
the Greek and the Roman names of most deities of 
natural objects interchangeably, in spite of the fact that 



40 INTRODUCTION. 

the kindred myths of the two races often show marked 
differences of detail. Thus the Roman Jove, or Jupiter, 
is assumed to be the same deity as the Greek Zeus, not 
because he is identical in character or functions, but 
because he is associated with the same fundamental idea 
of domination over the elements. It is to be noted 
that these myths referred primarily to natural objects, and 
names taken from them may apply either to the natural 
object or to its indweUing deity. Thus Hades is a region, 
and also a deity ruling that region. 

26. The multiplicity of natural phenomena provocative 
of either curiosity or delight gave abundant stimulus to 
the imagination of primitive man. The mightier forces 
of nature, such as volcanoes and earthquakes, were pict- 
ured as giants, whose brute strength, uncontrolled by 
intelHgence or beneficent purpose, was exerted only 
in destruction. In sun, moon, air, clouds, and wild 
beasts, on the other hand, were seen the operations of 
deities more kindly, but still mighty and at times violent. 
In streams, trees, and flowers, and in the gentler animals, 
were seen the manifestation of life still more akin to that 
of man, and often capable of communion with him. In 
time these deities became grouped into families, and 
legends grew up in regard to their origin and history. 
As Milton often refers to these genealogies, and to inci- 
dents in these legends, we will notice the chief deities 
in the order that they appear in ancient cosmogony. 

Ancient Cosmogony. 

27. In the beginning, said the Greek philosophers, 
matter must have existed in a confused and formless 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 41 

mass occupying the yawning abyss of space. The origi- 
nal condition was therefore named Chaos (V — yawn), 
and Milton, following the example of the Greek poets, 
asserts the existence of a deity, Chaos, who holds sway 
over the place Chaos. This weltering mass of matter 
ultimately came under the influence of powers which 
developed within it, the lighter and finer parts rising into 
the upper regions and coming under the sway of a deity, 
Uranus, and the lower settling and gaining a firm con- 
sistency, under the influence of another deity, Gaia. These 
deities, together with Erebus and Night, who jointly domi- 
nated the regions below the earth, form the first dynasty 
of the gods. 

28. They had offspring of three distinct types. First 
are the deities of distinct regions of the world or of gen- 
eral conditions. Such are ^^ther (see 5) and Hemera 
(day), children of Erebus and Night, and Eos or Au- 
rora (dawn). The second type of offspring are the 
gigantic beings mentioned above as causing volcanoes 
and other convulsions of nature. They are the first-born 
children of Uranus and Gaia, and are represented as 
having a hundred hands and fifty heads. The third and 
greatest type are the Titans, also children of Heaven and 
Earth, but less repulsive in appearance and less brutal 
in nature than their brothers. They are characterized 
by great power, conjoined with intelligence to direct that 
power. Many of them are identified with the mightier, 
but orderly forces of nature. Such were Oceanus (the 
sea), Cronus or Saturn (time), Rhea (productiveness), 
Hyperion (the sun). 

29. The myth arose that Uranus, displeased with his 



42 INTRODUCTION. 

eldest offspring, cast them into his dungeon in Tartarus. 
Gaia thereupon stirred up the Titans to rebellion under the 
leadership of Saturn. Armed with a sickle provided by his 
mother, Saturn wounded his father, and from the drops of 
blood that fell upon the earth sprang up a hideous race of 
gigantic monsters with legs formed of serpents, to whom 
Milton gives the distinctive name '' Earth-born," to distin- 
guish them from those giants born of both Heaven and 
Earth. Although it would normally have been the " birth- 
right " of the eldest Titan, Oceanus, to succeed his father, 
Saturn, as the chief agent in the downfall of Uranus, seized 
the throne of the universe, taking as his consort his sister 
Rhea. With them begins the second dynasty of the 
gods. 

30. They had many children, among them Neptune 
(Poseidon), Pluto (Hades), Jove (Zeus), Vesta, Ceres, 
Juno. In order to avoid a fate like his father's, Cronus 
attempted to devour each of his children at his birth. 
Jove was saved by a device of his mother, and by a me- 
dicinal potion compelled his father to disgorge those chil- 
dren already swallowed. 

31. The children thus rescued made war upon their 
father to dethrone him. The scene of the war was in 
Thessaly, Jove, with his brothers Neptune and Pluto and 
their forces, taking his stand on Mount Olympus, and 
Saturn on the opposite height of Mount Othrys. Power- 
ful aUies of Jove were the hundred-handed giants, who 
under the leadership of Briareos, one of their num- 
ber, hurled destructive thunderbolts at Saturn's crew. 
With their aid victory fell to the rebellious sons, who pro- 
ceeded to apportion the universe among themselves by 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 43 

lot. The primacy in rank and the immediate care of tlie 
earth and of the upper region fell to Jove, the sway of 
the watery kingdom was assigned to Neptune, and Pluto 
was obliged to be content with playing the part of a 
" Nether Jove " in the under world. Saturn, driven into 
exile, fled with his friends across the Adriatic Sea to Italy. 
His divine presence there wrought such beneficent effects 
upon civiHzation that the period of his reign is called the 
Golden Age. 

In II Penseroso Milton declares that from the union of 
Saturn with Vesta in that early age sprang the child 
"Melancholy," thus symboHzing the nature of that emo- 
tion, as fostered by culture and retirement. Afterward 
Vesta assumed her well-known character of goddess of 
the domestic hearth in Rome, and pledged herself by an 
oath to Jove to live thenceforth the life of a celibate. 

32. With the accession of Jove and his brothers 
to power began the third dynasty of the gods. Soon 
they were compelled to defend themselves against a 
rebellion on the part of the Earth-born giants (see 29). 
The most formidable ally of the latter was the fire-breath- 
ing, hundred-headed monster Typhon, who came to their 
aid from his den near the city of Tarsus in Asia Minor. 
His stature reached the sky, his eyes flashed fire, his 
voices struck terror to the heart. He so terrified the 
lesser gods that they fled from Olympus to Egypt and 
disguised themselves in the forms of animals (see 55). 
But Jove made good his claims to sovereignty by de- 
feating even this enemy, and thereafter reigned in peace. 
The volcanic plain of Phlegra is the fabled scene of 
this decisive contest, and its misses of lava and its barren 



44 INTRODUCTION. 

and jagged surface still give evidence of the scathing 
effect of Jove's thunderbolts. 

33. The race of man appeared on the earth in due 
time, either by spontaneous generation or by direct 
creation, and the gods withdrew to regions inaccessible 
to man, such as the tops of lofty mountains, or the re- 
cesses of the earth or the sea. Jove, with his sister 
Juno as queen, formed a permanent court on Mount 
Olympus. There the gods sat in council, or feasted on 
ambrosia and drank nectar, served by Jove's cup- 
bearer, the beautiful Hebe, whose name is the poet's 
synonym for fresh and youthful beauty. 

34. Although Jove dwelt in this palace on Mount 
Olympus, yet he frequented certain other localities, 
where he communicated his will to man through oracles. 
Mount Ida, in Crete, where he had been hidden from his 
bloodthirsty parent in infancy (see 30), remained ever 
sacred to him ; and at Dodona, in Epirus, his oracles 
could be heard voiced in the rustling leaves of his sacred 
oak. Olympia, in Elis, was the centre of his worship, 
where from all Greece men gathered to pray in his 
temple, and where at intervals of four years contests of 
skill were celebrated in his honor. 

35. By union with many immortal and mortal wives, 
he begat numerous offspring, who inherited each a por- 
tion of his father's divinity, and became subordinate 
deities, exercising a limited authority over some portion 
of the world or some element of human character. 
Succeeding generations inherited less of divine nature, 
and by degrees the '' Seed of Jove " became undistin- 
guishable in character from human beings, except by the 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 45 

possession of an unusual degree of power of some par- 
ticular kind. 

Lesser Deities. 

36. Among the children of Jove, none are more im- 
portant in poetry than the Muses, born of his wife 
Mnemosyne (Memory). 

The Muses are deities that inspire in man artistic 
powers. They are nine in number, each imparting 
some special art impulse to her devotees. They are 
represented as living in the neighborhood of mountains, 
such as Parnassus, in Phocis ; Olympia, in Elis ; Helicon, 
in the district of Boeotia called Aonia (see map, p. Zd). 
The Pierian springs beneath Olympus, the Castalian 
spring beneath Parnassus, and the springs of Hippocrene 
and Aganippe beneath Helicon were the haunts of the 
Muses, their gentle, spontaneous, musical currents sym- 
bolizing the flow of poetic and artistic inspiration into 
the human soul. 

37. Of the children of Jove, perhaps the next in 
importance are Phoebus-Apollo and Diana, born at 
Delos, whither their mother Latona had been driven 
because of the jealousy of Juno. Because born at the 
foot of Mount Cynthus, they are known as Cynthius and 
Cynthia, respectively. 

38. Phcebus-ApoUo is god of light, prophecy, music, 
poetry, and archery, and of the arts and sciences. In 
appearance, he is the type of manly beauty. His musi- 
cal and poetic gifts are symbolized by the lyre, which he 
usually carries in his hand. As god of light, he is repre- 
sented as the deity that drives in the flaming chariot of 



46 INTRODUCTION. 

the sun through the heavens, usurping the place of the 
earher deity HeUos. Preceded by the Dawn (see 
28) he issues from his '' chamber in the east," and 
guides his coursers along their sloping path until at 
night they plunge beyond the ocean's marge, where he 
cools the burning axle of his wain and rests his weary 
steeds. In his circuit his vision penetrates the most 
secret recesses of the world, and nothing escapes his all- 
seeing eyes ; hence his gift of prophecy. 

39. In order to exercise this precious power for man's 
benefit, he early sought a fitting spot on the earth for an 
oracle, and found it in a cave beneath a cliff of Mount 
Parnassus. He appeared to some mariners in the ^gsean 
Sea in the form of a dolphin (Gr. = Delphin) and, with the 
aid of winds divinely controlled, drove their vessel to a har- 
bor near the chosen spot. He then revealed himself to 
them as a god, and appointed them his priests. From 
this miracle the place was named Delphi and he was 
called the Delphian Apollo. The dolphin was thereafter 
associated in legends with musicians and poets, as in the 
myth of Arion, which Milton imitates in Lycidas. Mil- 
ton prays that, as Arion, when thrown into the Mediter- 
ranean Sea by pirates, was received and borne ashore by 
a dolphin which had been charmed by his beautiful music, 
so may dolphins convey to him the corse of his poet-friend. 

The region about Delphi had formerly been infested 
by a monster named Python. Apollo, through his power 
as god of archery, slew the monster, whence he received 
the title of Pythian Apollo. Every four years Pythian 
games similar to the Olympian contests (see 34) were 
held at Delphi in his honor. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 47 

40. Apollo fell ardently in love with a nymph named 
Daphne, but she, being vowed to celibacy, rejected his 
suit and fled from his amorous wooing. The god pur- 
suing, she prayed to be rescued, and in answer to her 
prayer Jove transformed her into a laurel bush. Apollo, 
in remorse, decreed that the laurel should remain ever 
green, and be held sacred to himself. The laurel is 
therefore of great importance in literature. Supremacy in 
matters of skill, or preeminence in any art such as Apollo 
alone could convey, was recognized by the award of a 
wreath of laurel to the person thus endowed. In modern 
English, the title laureate implies supremacy in poetic 
creation. As a technical term in Great Britain, it means 
a poet appointed by the state to commemorate events of 
importance to the nation. 

41. Apollo was not more fortunate in his friendship 
than in his love. While playing at quoits one day, he 
accidentally struck his friend Hyacinthus with his quoit 
and killed him. Apollo caused a flower to spring up 
from his blood, and on the leaves of this " sanguine 
flower " inscribed a memorial of his grief in the Greek 
word atat (= alas !). 

'42. Orpheus, son of Apollo and Calliope (Muse of epic 
poetry), was endowed with powers hardly less than those 
of his father. He wedded a nymph named Eurydice, 
and at her early death he was inconsolable. He finally 
took a lyre given him by Apollo and made his way to 
Hades to seek her. His song " suspended Hell and took 
with ravishment the thronging audience." Even the 
inexorable deities wept with pity, and Pluto granted his 
request that Eurydice might accompany him back to the 



48 INTRODUCTION. 

upper world, but only on condition that Orpheus should 
precede her out of Hades, and should not look behind 
him until he had emerged into the light of day. As he 
reached the limits of Hades, Orpheus was unable to 
refrain from casting a look backward to ascertain whether 
his wife was really following. His lack of faith was pun- 
ished, for Eurydice immediately vanished forever from 
his sight. Realizing that he had lost his wife through 
his own fault, he wandered unconsolable in the forests of 
Thrace until he met a rout of Thracian women celebrat- 
ing with wild, drunken orgies the rites of Bacchus. They 
demanded that he should join the revel, and in drunken 
frenzy at his sad refusal they tore him to pieces. His head 
was thrown into the wver Hebrus and floated to Lesbos 
in the ^gsean Sea, where it was enshrined with due 
ceremony by the pious islanders. 

43. Diana, twin sister of Apollo, has many of his 
characteristics. As he is god of the blazing sunlight, 
she is goddess of the colder and paler moonlight. She 
is therefore a patron goddess of chastity. As he is god 
of archery, so she is depicted as a huntress, always bear- 
ing about with her her bow and quiver, with which she 
pursues the wild animals through the forest. Milton 
interprets the myth beautifully in Coiniis, 438 + . 

44. Minerva is goddess of wisdom and of armed 
resistance. She sprang from the head of Jove, full-grown 
and clad in armor. She chose to remain a virgin and 
thus became the patron goddess of chaste maidens. 
Her purity, not her warlike character, is typified in the 
helmet, spear, and shield with which she is equipped. 
Her shield or aegis is covered with dragons' scales, 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 49 

bordered with serpents, and armed with the head of 
Medusa (see 52). Sacred to her was the owl, the cahn 
steady gaze of whose wide-open eyes has ahvays suggested 
to man the absorption of mind characteristic of the 
sage. 

45. Vulcan, called by Milton Mulciber, son of Jupiter 
and Juno, was the god of mechanical arts, and especially 
of the use of fire in working metals. Unlike the other 
gods, he was misshapen and lame. This was caused, 
as the Greeks said, in the following manner : Jupiter 
having quarrelled with Juno, Vulcan interposed and took 
his mother's part. Jove in anger hurled him out of 
Olympus with such violence that when he fell it was 
upon the island of Lemnos in the ^Egsean. His leg was 
broken by the fall, but in spite of his disobedience and 
of his uncouth appearance, he later won from Jove the 
beautiful Aphrodite for his wife. 

46. Of all the powers of nature personified in my- 
thology, none exerts a more universal sway, none appears 
more prominently in literature, than does Venus, goddess 
of love and of feminine beauty. Astarte or Astoreth 
(plural = Ashtaroth) is the corresponding Phoenician 
deity, although, unlike the Roman Venus, she is intimately 
associated with the moon. In Greece, the name of the 
goddess is Aphrodite, and the Greek myth varies from the 
Roman in explaining her origin in a different manner. 
The Romans made Venus the child of Jupiter and Dione, 
while the Greek Aphrodite was said to have sprung from 
the foam of the sea where the blood of the wounded 
Uranus dropped into it (see 29). In Rome her hus- 
band was Mars, in Greece Hephaistos, the counterpart 



50 INTRODUCTION. 

of the Roman Vulcan (45). She was the mother of 
Cupid or Eros, god of the passion of love, and of Hymen, 
god of marriage (whose mantle of golden color and torch 
symbolize the wedding processions that he sanctions) ; 
and by her union with the Trojan Anchises she became 
the parent of y^neas, the founder of the Roman nation 
(see 67). 

47. Venus experienced all the keenness of the pangs 
which she caused in others ; for she ardently loved a 
beautiful youth named Adonis, and he was killed while 
hunting the wild boar. So intense was her grief that 
Hades could not resist her appeals for the restoration of 
her lover, and he permitted Adonis to spend six months 
of every year with Venus in Olympus. In Syria, where 
Adonis was worshipped under the name of Thammuz, 
it was believed that he was wounded anew every year, 
as was shown by the fact that in the rainy season the 
river Adonis became tinged with red. This river flows 
from the Lebanon Mountains, where he yearly hunted 
the boar, to the Mediterranean Sea. In these moun- 
tains the Syrian women annually congregated to lament 
his death, and their example was followed by the Jewish 
women in Jerusalem. 

48. A myth exerting almost as great an influence upon 
art and literature is that of Cupid and Psyche, symboliz- 
ing as it does the human soul dominated by its most 
powerful emotion. Psyche, a king's daughter, became 
the wife of Cupid, but her beauty inflamed the jealousy 
of his mother, Venus, who by a stratagem caused Psyche 
to disobey an injunction laid upon her by her husband 
and thus brought about a separation between the pair. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 51 

Psyche wandered through the earth, undergoing various 
troubles and pains, but not until after she had traversed 
the under world also did she find her missing husband. 
Then Jove in pity made her immortal and she was 
reconciled to Venus and took her place among the gods 
on Olympus. 

49. The deities thus far mentioned shared with Jove 
his hfe in the upper regions. We now turn to Nep- 
tune and the deities of his watery domain. Neptune took 
as a consort Amphitrite, and by her he had a son, Triton, 
who acted as his father's trumpeter and attendant. Like 
Jove, Neptune exerted only a general control, distribut- 
ing his realm among many " blue-haired deities " and 
giving them leave '^ to wield their little tridents." 

50. Oceanus, having refused to join in the war against 
Jove (see 32), was left in control of the ocean stream. 
Nereus, a calm, placid deity, ruled the seas from his 
palace beneath the ^^gaean, where he dwelt with his fifty 
beautiful daughters, the Nereids. Proteus, son of Nep- 
tune and shepherd of his flocks, dwelt on the island of 
Carpathus. He was a deity much sought for on account 
of his power of prophecy. He disliked to exercise this 
power and would sHp away into the sea unless firmly held 
by his questioner. If so held, he would transform him- 
self rapidly into a variety of repulsive shapes in order to 
terrify the inquirer. But if the latter were persistent 
enough, he would resume his original shape, and yield 
the desired information. Milton uses this legend to 
illustrate the subtle transformations of matter, by which 
its secrets escape the investigations of the alchemist 
{P. L. III. 600). 



52 INTRODUCTION. 

Another sea-god of prophetic powers is Glaucus. He 
had been mortal, but, having eaten of an herb of magic 
powers, felt irresistibly impelled to spring into the sea, 
and there "underwent a quick immortal change." His 
immortality was unwelcome, however, and successive 
years brought only increased longing for death. 

Myths regarding the deification of mortals are very 
common among the poets. Another example is that of 
Leucothea, a Theban princess, who, when pursued by 
her husband to the seashore, sprang with her infant son 
into the deep. There they both became deities. As 
the river goddess Sabrina was deified under much the 
same conditions, Milton's appeal to these and kindred 
deities in Coffius, 867+ is peculiarly appropriate. Thetis, 
there mentioned, was a Nereid (see above) ; Parthenope 
was a Siren whose tomb was fabled to be at Naples ; and 
Ligeia was a sister Siren (see 59). 

51. Like the gods of water and sky, the lesser gods of 
earth appear in groups. If there be one of more promi- 
nence than another, it would seem to be Pan, or Sylvanus, 
god of rural Hfe and of animate nature in general. With 
him are associated groups of Saty?-s (beings combining 
the physical characteristics of goats and of men), and of 
Fauns (a slightly higher type than satyrs, betraying their 
animal nature only by their pointed furry ears, but lack- 
ing all moral sense). Their lives were given up to care- 
less sport in forests and on lawns, in the company of the 
tree nymphs {Dryades') or fresh- water nymphs {Naiades). 
Then, too, every object and place had its Genius or 
special attendant spirit, who guarded it and shaped its 
fortunes. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 53 

Besides the nymphs mentioned above, there were 
nymphs of the meadows, of the vales, of the mountains, 
of marshes, of rivers, etc. One of the most celebrated 
is Echo, a mountain nymph who fell in love with a beau- 
tiful youth named Narcissus, son of a river god. Her 
love being unrequited, she pined away until nothing was 
left of her save her voice. Narcissus, whose admiration 
for his own beautiful face had rendered him insensible 
to her charms, was punished by the gods with a fate like 
hers ; for he gazed at his own reflection in brooks and 
fountains until he also pined away and was transformed 
into the flower that bears his name. 

52. The deities thus far mentioned '' were the prime in 
order and in might. The rest were long to tell." But 
we should be familiar with certain groups of beings, such 
as the Winds (Zephyrus, Boreas, etc.), with their ruler 
^olus, called by Milton " Hippotades ; " the Harpies, foul 
beings with women's heads and bird-like bodies and legs, 
who punished crime ; and the Furies, creatures possess- 
ing terrible features and carrying scourges of snakes in 
their hands, who tormented guilty souls. Of especial 
importance are the Gorgons, women with snaky locks, 
whose look had power to turn the terror-stricken gazer 
into stone. The chief Gorgon, Medusa, is especially well 
known to literature, since her head, severed from her 
body by Perseus (see 12), was fastened in the centre of 
Minerva's shield, and the blood which dropped from the 
severed head as Perseus bore it over land and sea bred 
the snakes that infest Sahara and other desert regions.^ 

1 See the list of snakes, etc., in F. L. X. 524. 



54 INTRODUCTION. 

Far different from the Gorgons were the three Graces^ 
whose names (Aglaia = splendor, Euphrosyne = joy, and 
ThaHa = pleasure) suggest their nature and their mission 
to mortals ; and the Hours, beautiful maidens who repre- 
sent the seasons of the year. 

53. Other Olympian deities well known to literature 
are the three following : — 

Iris, goddess of the rainbow and therefore of color. 
From the position of the rainbow and its swift appear- 
ance after a storm in which Jove's thunderbolts have 
cleft the clouds, Iris has been termed the Messenger 
of Jove. 

Hermes or Mercury, the general messenger of the gods. 
As speed is essential in such an officer, we find asso- 
ciated with him the kindred idea of light and graceful 
motion, such as is employed in the dance. The most 
swiftly moving of the planets bears his name, as does the 
(supposed) active chemical principle of all things, quick- 
silver or "Volatile Hermes." (See 6 and 9.) 

Bacchus, god of wine. Milton refers to the legend of 
his seizure by Tyrrhenian pirates, who supposed him a 
beautiful youth and designed to sell him as a slave. He 
rescued himself by exerting his divine power and trans- 
forming his captors into dolphins. 

54. Supreme above all the classic gods and goddesses 
we find the Fates, called by Milton '' Daughters of Neces- 
sity." These sisters share in the determination of all 
human events by allotting to each man his portion of 
life, and no god, not even Jove himself, can set aside 
their decrees. One, Clotho, is represented as holding a 
spindle or distaff, while a second, Lachesis, draws from 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 55 

it the thread (symboHc of human Ufe), and the third, 
Atropos, cuts the latter at the moment decreed. Back 
of this triple conception hes the older thought of Fate 
as a single impersonal, all- controlling power, binding 
gods and men equally, and Milton more than once by 
imphcation gives expression to this idea. 

55. Milton's works contain many references to the 
mythology of Egypt, but as that mythology has not won 
a place in literature at all comparable with that of the 
Greek myths, his references are confined to general feat- 
ures, such as the titles of the better known Egyptian 
gods, and a few descriptive epithets, such as ^'■bleating 
gods." The Egyptians represented the forces of nature 
under the forms of animals, instead of under those of 
human beings (see 32). Osiris, the sun-god, was the 
chief deity, worshipped also under the name of Serapis. 
A sacred bull, called Apis, was worshipped as his visible 
incarnation upon earth. Like other great deities, he was 
doomed to be vanquished by an enemy, his brother 
Typhon (represented as a crocodile), who severed his 
body into many parts and threw them into the Nile. 
His wife Isis gathered the different portions and placed 
them in a sacred chest or shrine. She is represented as 
a woman having the horns of a cow. Of their sons, 
Anubis was represented with the head of a jackal, Orus 
(or Horus) with that of a hawk. Ammon (or Hammon) 
was the chief god of Upper Egypt, although his worship 
was also carried on in an oasis of the Libyan Desert. 
He was represented with horns like those of a ram. 

56. In the quick comprehension of allusions to these 
imaginative creations of the ancient world lies one of the 



56 INTRODUCTION. 

pleasures which literature offers to the reader. A like 
pleasure springs from the perception of the charm, the 
glamour, that pervades the thought of remote lands and 
bygone civilizations, known to us only through romance 
or through the description of the curious traveller, whose 
experiences lose nothing of the picturesque in the re- 
counting. From the twelfth to the seventeenth century 
adventurous explorers in Asia and Africa blazed out a 
route for commerce to follow, returning to England with 
stories that stimulated the imagination to unbounded cred- 
ulousness, confirming as they often did statements found 
in the works of the oldest writers. For example, so many 
writers in various periods had asserted the existence of 
races of pygmies, or little people a cubit high (some in 
India, others in Africa), that Homer's story of their an- 
nual battle with the migrating cranes seemed to Milton's 
readers easily credible ; and Herodotus' story of the 
winged lions called griffins who guard the gold mines of 
Scythia from the depredations of the Arimaspians was, 
in the judgment of the mediaeval world, removed from 
the realm of Dure fiction from the day when the great 
explorer, Mandeville, returning from his travels in Asia, 
declared that he knew a country where the " gryphon " 
was very common. 

Imagination ran riot in regard to these " uncouth " 
regions — Asian plateaus, where men sailed upon the 
ground in wagons ; Saharan deserts, where the sands 
"poized" the lighter wings of the winds in their fierce 
combats ; the Caspian Sea, where clouds " with heaven's 
artillery fraught " continually rent the air with thunder- 
bolts. The inhabitants of English dales loved to hear 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 57 

how the lofty Himalayas frowned steep over the rich 
plains of India, and how the snow- clad range of Imaus 
swept from the sources of the Ganges northward past 
Sericana ^ and Tartary — names in themselves fraught 
with suggestions of strange peoples and customs — to 
lands still unpenetrated by civilized man. Of India they 
knew more, but that country was still half fairyland. 
Here the subjects of the barbarous kings celebrated their 
coronals (such were the riches of this favored land) with 
showers of gold-dust and pearls. From the neighboring 
islands of Ternate and Tidore came fleets laden with 
spices, perhaps delaying in the Persian Gulf to bring 
from Ormuz some of those jewels that made it the dia- 
mond mart of the world. 

Ruins of ancient cities in Asia and in Africa served 
to corroborate the testimony of early writers in regard to 
the ancient glories of Egypt and Assyria. At Babylon 
might still be traced the site of the great temple of 
Belus, a single tower of which was said to have been 
four hundred feet high and four hundred feet square. 
The pyramids on the heights above Cairo still looked 
down upon the site of Memphis, whose splendid temple 
of Serapis rivalled that of Belus at Babylon. And if 
these dumb witnesses of the past compelled belief in the 
legends that cluster about their names, how much more 
credible must have seemed the written records of the epic 
poem, the historical narrative, the cycles of romance ! 
The very names of the places to which cling dim mem- 
ories of Charlemagne, of Arthur, of Saladin (Fontarabbia, 

1 Sericana was a district in the northwestern part of China. 



58 INTRODUCTION. 

x'\rmorica, Damasco) appeal to the imagination with 
power to transport the mind out of the present into the 
stimulating atmosphere of chivalry. If the student have 
not the time for a too curious study of these historical 
references, let him try to lend himself to the magic of 
the names, with their suggestions of bravery and loyalty ; 
and even if, like Milton, he sees Charlemagne instead of 
Roland die "by Fontarabbia," or if he cannot find the 
exact latitude and longitude of Aspramont, his thought will 
have in it no more of vagueness than did the reader's of 
Milton's day. 

Classic Legends. 

A few legends inherited from ancient Greece have for 
centuries furnished the writers of Western Europe with 
heroic figures, romantic episodes, and picturesque details, 
which serve as illustrative matter wherewith to enrich 
their productions, until the legends have become inter- 
woven into the very tissue of literature, and no scholar 
is equipped for general reading until he has come to 
know their principal incidents. We shall complete our 
treatment of classical references with such details from 
the story of the Argonautic Expedition, the Adventures 
of Hercules, and the Siege of Troy as may be of assistance 
in reading Milton's works. 

The Argofiautic Expedition. 

57. This legend relates how thousands of years ago the 
king of the country of Colchis, on the Black Sea, pos- 
sessed a wonderful treasure in the shape of a ram's 
fleece of pure gold, which he guarded with the utmost 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 59 

care, because it was eagerly desired by the people who 
dwelt on the shores of the ^gaean. A band of heroes 
from Greece determined to secure the fleece, at what- 
ever risk to themselves, and to that end built a splendid 
fifty-oared galley, which they named the Argo, and set 
out for Colchis. Notable among the heroes were Jason 
(their leader), the poet Orpheus, the demi-god Hercules, 
and the fathers of many of the heroes of the famous 
Trojan War. 

58. They went through many adventures before reach- 
ing Colchis, in one of which Hercules became separated 
from the expedition. The sole one of these to which 
Milton refers in the course of these selections is that of 
the Symplegades, or "justling rocks" {F. L. H. 1018). 
The route of the Argo lay, of course, through the Straits 
of Bosphorus, and soon after passing these the Argonauts 
found their way barred by two huge island-masses of rock, 
floating upon the sea and at short intervals of time crash- 
ing their cliff-like faces together with tremendous force and 
noise, under the influence of the waves. The heroes, con- 
fiding in the bird-like speed of the Argo, determined to 
rest their fate on that of a dove, which was accordingly 
sent between the rocks as they swung apart. The fright- 
ened bird sped through the passage in safety, but the 
return of the rocks was so prompt that some of her tail- 
feathers were caught and torn out just as she reached the 
open space beyond. Nor was the confidence of the 
heroes in their ship unfounded ; for on the next relapse 
of the rocks they bent to their oars and passed safely on 
their way, the stern of the boat being merely grazed by 
the returning rocks. 



6o INTRODUCTION. 

59. Arrived at Colchis, they secured the fleece with 
the assistance of Medea, the king's daughter (who be- 
came ardently enamoured of Jason and abandoned her 
home to join her fortunes with his), and departed home- 
ward. But more than one crime had marked their 
course, and the gods condemned them to wander through 
many strange regions ere they saw their native Isfnd. 
They visited the island of the goddess and enchantress 
Circe (see 68) to implore the aid of her mystic powers. 
They passed islands where resided the Sirens, nymphs 
the upper portion of whose bodies were those of beauti- 
ful maidens, while the lower portion resembled those of a 
bird. These dwelt on a rocky shore, where they sang so 
sweetly of the pleasures that awaited the sailor who should 
venture to land that no mariner who heard them could 
resist his longing to reach the shore. 

But the smiling waters concealed hidden reefs which 
wrecked the vessel venturing too near, and thus the sailor 
who listened to their song paid the penalty of his rashness 
with his life. Orpheus, however, sang to the accompani- 
ment of his lyre so sweetly that the Argonauts failed to 
hear the Sirens, and passed in safety. The passing be- 
tween Scylla and Charybdis (see 69) was the most notable 
of their many succeeding adventures, but they finally 
reached Greece with their treasure. 

The Labors of Hercules. 

60. Hercules (properly called Heracles), who had 
accidentally been deprived of his share in the Argonautic 
Expedition, was the son of Jove and a mortal named 
Alcmene. His enormous strength, exhibited in many 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 6i 

exploits, has made him a leading figure in legendary 
history. 

The twelve great "labors" which he performed for 
the king of Mycenae are world-renowned. One of these 
is of especial importance to the student of Milton, be- 
cause it pertains to the myth of the " Hesperides," a 
myth to which he frequently refers. 

6i . It is said that among the gifts received by Juno 
on the occasion of her marriage with Jove was a tree 
bearing apples of the purest gold. Juno caused the tree 
to be set in a garden in the extreme west, where dwelt 
the mighty monarch Atlas, supporting upon his shoulders 
the weight of the dome of the sky. The precious apples 
were entrusted to the care of his daughters, who, from the 
name of their mother Hesperia, or of their grandfather 
Hesperus, were called the Hesperides. They proved 
not entirely faithful to their trust, and Juno attempted to 
ensure the safety of the apples by placing in the garden, 
as a guardian, a dragon with a hundred heads, not all 
of which were ever asleep at the same time. 

62. One of the tasks of Hercules was to secure these 
golden apples. He roamed over almost the entire world, 
but for a long time was unable even to find the garden. 
Finally he learned that Atlas could aid him to secure the 
fruit, and he undertook to support the sky upon his own 
shoulders while Atlas went on his quest. The latter was 
able to outwit his daughters, the Hesperides, to put all 
the dragon's heads to sleep by enchantments, and to 
secure three of the apples for Hercules. The last of 
these tasks was to descend into the lower world and 
bring to the hght of day the dog Cerberus (23), an 



62 INTRODUCTION. 

exploit possible only to a being of supernatural 
strength. 

63. Hercules afterwards won renown in a series of 
heroic adventures, but finally fell a victim to the revengeful 
craft of an enemy. He had attacked the king of CEchalia 
in revenge for a gross breach of faith, had stormed the 
citadel, slain the monarch, and borne away his beautiful 
daughter as a captive. On his return he halted near 
Mount CEta, in Thessaly, to render to Jove a sacrifice of 
gratitude for his success. His wife, dreading the charms 
of the captured maiden, sent him a sacrificial robe which 
she had drenched with a certain liquid, potent (as she 
supposed) to keep him faithful to herself. But the 
liquid had been given her by a treacherous enemy of the 
hero, and its actual effect was to make the garment cling 
closely to the skin of the wearer, poisoning his blood and 
causing intolerable torment. Crazed with pain, Hercules 
tore up trees by the roots, and seizing the bearer of the 
robe (Lichas) by one leg, in his blind wrath he hurled 
him far from the mountain top into the distant Euboic 
sea.^ Finally, in despair at his unconquerable agony, he 
destroyed himself. 

The Trojan War. 

64. In the era succeeding the Argonautic Expedition and 
the Adventures of Hercules, occurred the Siege of Troy. 
This city was the capital of a kingdom in Asia Minor, 

^ The original story makes him halt for sacrifice at the northern 
end of the island of Euboea, thence hurl Lichas into the sea, and 
afterzvards proceed to Mount Qita to erect his own funeral pyre. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 63 

near the Hellespont, under the rule of a king named 
Priam. One of his sons, named Paris, with the aid of 
the goddess Venus had carried off to Troy the wife of 
Menelaus, king of Sparta. This wife was Helen, daughter 
of Jupiter and Leda, and accounted the most beautiful 
woman in the world, so that her name has become a 
synonym for the perfection of female beauty. 

An expedition of a hundred and fifty thousand men and 
over a thousand ships was organized to restore the fugitive 
to Greece, and to wreak vengeance upon the Trojans. 
Menelaus' brother, the stalwart warrior Agamemnon, took 
command and all the heroes of Greece joined in the 
undertaking. Their names, too many to be recounted 
here, were familiar to Milton's readers, owing to the 
numerous translations from the classics with which the 
Renaissance had enriched English Hterature. 

As Venus had aided Paris in securing Helen, she 
aided the Trojans throughout the war. Juno and 
Minerva, on the other hand, threw the weight of their 
influence in favor of the Greeks, and most of the gods 
ranged themselves on the one side or the other as auxilia- 
ries in the conflict. 

65. Among the mortals the principal figure in the war 
was the mighty Achilles, who slew vast numbers of the 
Trojan forces, among them the Ethiopian prince, Mem-^ 
non.^ But the capture of Troy itself was due, not to the 
prowess of Achilles, but to the craft of Ulysses, who 

1 This prince, though dark-skinned, was famed for his beauty, 
being a son of the beautiful prince Tithonus and Eos, goddess of the 
rosy dawn. It is not without reason that Milton assigns to his sister 
Hemera the same dusky charms of person. 



64 INTRODUCTION. 

becomes thenceforth the principal figure in the legend 
(see 68). 

On the fall of Troy, Menelaus became reconciled 
to his wife Helen, and by a somewhat round-about 
route bore her back to Sparta. On the way they visited 
Thone, the king of Egypt, whose wife, Polydamna, pre- 
sented Helen with a magic draught called nepenthes. 
This drink had the power to invigorate the body, to dis- 
pel care from the mind, and to cause the happy partaker 
to forget all past causes of sorrow. With its aid the 
memory of Helen's infidehty was obliterated from the 
mind of Menelaus, and complete wedded happiness was 
again made possible to him. 

66. Not so fortunate was his brother Agamemnon 
(called by Homer Pelides, i.e. descendant of Pelops) ; 
for his wife had become unfaithful to him during his long 
absence at Troy, and on his return he was treacherously 
murdered by her paramour. This crime and its conse- 
quences form the subject of several tragedies by ^schylus, 
the greatest Greek dramatist, and subjects related to this 
are treated by both Sophocles and Euripides. 

The same authors also employ portions of the legend- 
ary history of Thebes as subject material for dramatic 
treatment. But as the incidents have not won a place 
in general literature like those of the " Tale of Troy," 
they will not be rehearsed here. 

Anc /uses' Line. 

67. Of the Trojan leaders the only one to escape from 
the vengeance of the Greeks was ^neas, son of Anchises 
and the Goddess Venus. He took refiu^e in a mountain 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 65 

near the city, and some time afterward managed to depart 
with a band of followers in a fleet hastily constructed. 

The Romans, seeking to trace an exalted ancestry for 
their rulers, declared that fate had decreed that ^neas 
should found the Roman nation ; and Virgil in a mag- 
nificent epic, the ^neid, recounts the adventures of 
^neas before and after reaching Italy, tracing the line 
of his descendants down to Augustus Caesar, in whose 
reign the poem was composed. 

In like manner the earliest English writers attempted 
to connect this line with their own early kings ; and we 
accordingly read in early English literature how a great- 
grandson of i^neas named Brut migrated from Italy to 
the island of Britain and became monarch of the nation 
that bears his name, the Britons. According to the 
legend, Brut had a son and successor named Locrine. 
The latter had a daughter named Sabrina, by a mistress, 
but later wedded a woman named Gwendolen, and still 
later divorced her and returned to his former love. The 
enraged Gwendolen raised an army, attacked and de- 
feated Locrine, and procured the death of Sabrina by 
drowning, but not in the exact manner described by 
Milton {Covins^ 829 + ). 

The Wanderings of Ulysses. 
68. The adventures of Ulysses on his departure from 
Troy form the subject of Homer's second great epic 
poem, the Odyssey. Ten years the hero had been absent 
from his home, but the Fates decreed that ten more 
should be spent in traversing the unknown regions of the 
world before he should see Ithaca again. The first of 



66 INTRODUCTION. 

his adventures that concerns us is that with the goddess 
Circe. She dwelt in a beautiful palace on an island 
located by Milton not far from the southern extremity 
of Italy {Co?nus, 49), and seduced visitors by her charms 
to drink of an enchanted liquor which she offered them 
in a golden cup. When the guest had drank, the god- 
dess touched him with her magic wand, and he fell to 
the ground transformed into some beast in appearance, 
but retaining the consciousness of a human being. 
Ulysses would surely have met this fate had not Hermes 
(see 53) hastened to warn him, and present him with an 
herb called 9noly, possessed of such wondrous powers 
that it would entirely neutralize the enchantments of 
Circe. 

Protected by this, he first terrified and then appeased 
Circe. After remaining with her some months, by 
her advice he descended to Hades and consulted the 
shade of the prophet Tiresias in regard to his future 
career. On his way thither he visited the lands of the 
Cimmerians, a country beyond the ocean stream (see 
22), where reigned perpetual darkness. 

69. After his return he passed the island of the Sirens, 
and, wishing to hear their entrancing song, assured the 
safety of his crew by stopping their ears with wax, and 
his own safety by having himself bound to the mast. 
He then sailed between Scylla and Charybdis, incurring 
that double danger which has become so famous a sym- 
bol of all difficulties requiring a choice between two evils. 
The story of Scylla varies in different writers, but in 
Milton she is represented as a maiden who has incurred 
the jealousy of Amphitrite (see 49). 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 67 

The latter had therefore cast herbs of magic power 
into the water in which Scylla bathed, and by their effect 
she was transformed from the waist downward into a 
hideous monster. She had six long necks, with terrific 
heads bearing three rows of teeth each, and her voice 
sounded like the barking of a dog. Her position was 
on the Italian side of the Straits of Messina, while in a 
cave opposite dwelt an immense dragon, Charybdis, 
which alternately swallowed and belched forth the waters 
of the straits. 

If the venturous ship that attempted the passage 
sheered to the one hand, it would sacrifice its crew to 
Scylla ; if to the other, it would be sucked down into the 
jaws of Charybdis and be spewed forth again a shattered 
wreck. Ulysses preferred to sacrifice six men to Scylla 
rather than to risk his entire vessel and crew, and there- 
fore steered nearer to Scylla and passed by Charybdis in 
safety. 

It is evident from his having escaped so great danger 
that he was under the care of the Fates, and we shall 
not be surprised to learn that he eventually reached 
Ithaca, where his faithful wife received him with rejoicing. 

Religious Conceptions. 
70. The account of the creation and the ancient 
history of the World given in the earlier books of the 
Bible was universally accepted as historically accurate 
by the rehgious world of the seventeenth century, and 
the origin of the first five books was attributed to Moses. 
(See 83, 84, and P. L. I. 8.) As this account is meagre, 
the theologians of the Middle Ages had supplemented it 



68 INTRODUCTION. 

by such additions as imagination, aided by suggestions 
scattered through the rest of the Bible, could supply, 
using the utmost ingenuity in order to harmonize the 
whole into a consistent narrative. This account Milton 
still further amphfied by adding details which (without 
being inconsistent with the Bible story) might furnish 
opportunities for the exercise of his poetic art. The 
narrative as it appears woven into the texture of his 
poem is as follows : — 

Heave fi. 

71. God, the eternal and all-powerful Being from whom 
and in whom all things exist, has resided throughout all 
past time in an upper region of space, called Heaven, 
surrounded by angelic attendants whom he has created, 
and who serve him through love, finding their highest 
happiness in that service. 

72. Of these angels there are three hierarchies, each 
of which comprises three orders, and the angels of each 
order are distinguished from the others by the possession 
of some attribute in a surpassing degree. Of the first 
hierarchy, the Seraphim are "bright," "fiery" ; the 
Cherubim (whose attribute is vision^ are the guardians ; 
the Thrones are evidently subordinate rulers. The 
second hierarchy is composed of Dominations, Virtues, 
and Powers. The third comprises Principalities, Arch- 
angels, and Angels. Milton also uses the latter term 
generally of all the orders, and the term "Archangels" 
of all the higher groups, but he applies it more accurately 
to the seven angels who act as God's ambassadors and 
nuncios, who 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 69 

" at his bidding speed 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest." 

Such are Raphael, who comes to warn Adam of his danger 
{P. L. VI. 893 + ) ; Michael, who is despatched to sum- 
mon the armies to meet the rebellious host of Satan on 
the morning of the first day's fight in Heaven {P. L. VI. 
44 _^ ) . and Uriel, who warns the cherub Gabriel that 
Satan has neared the Garden of Eden with mahcious 
intent {P. L. IV. 561 +). It is evident that Milton con- 
ceived life in Heaven as organized under an idealized 
semi-miHtary, semi-pohtical government, in which the 
higher angels serve God in stations which shed honor 
upon them while they exhibit outwardly the kingliness 
of his state. In general the service of the angels con- 
sists in hymning God's praise, bringing flowers to adorn 
his altar, and performing such other solemn ceremonies 
of adoration as are due to so mighty a monarch. Their 
food is described by Milton in terms borrowed from 
Greek mythology : — 

" Tables are set and on a sudden piled 
With angels' food ; and rubied nectar flows 
In pearl, in diamond, and massy gold, 
Fruit of delicious vines, the growth of Heaven. 
On flowers reposed and with fresh flowerets crowned, 
They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet 
Quaff immortality and joy — ." 

73. Heaven, their dwelling-place, is a place of exceed- 
ing beauty. Following the imagery of the Book of Reve- 
lation, Milton depicts it as a vast city "undetermined 
square or round," with battlemented walls and towers 
of crystal. It has variety of hill and plain, and valleys 



yo INTRODUCTION. 

threaded with streams of the purest water, on whose 
banks grow trees bearing fruits of wondrous powers. 
Although, like man, the angels enjoy " grateful vicissi- 
tude of day and night," and even the Deity himself at 
times veils his glory and envelops his throne in the deep- 
est darkness, yet the characteristic of the region is its 
radiant light, which emanates from every person and 
object there. Milton accounts for this by borrowing 
from the Greek scientists their conception of the 
"ether" (see 5), and assumes that all heavenly beings 
are composed of this substance purer than fire and shed- 
ding light without heat. 

74. Here dwelt the angels with God in a happy and sin- 
less state throughout unnumbered ages of the past. But 
on a certain day (supposed by Milton to be about six thou- 
sand years ago), God proclaimed to the assembled angels 
a new regime, in the following words : — 

" ' Hear all ye Angels, Progeny of Light, 
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers, 
Hear my decree, which unrevok't shall stand. 
This day I have begot whom I declare 
My only Son, and on this holy hill 
Him have anointed, whom ye now behold 
At my right hand; your Head I him appoint; 
And by myself have sworn to him shall bow 
All knees in Heav'n, and shall confess him Lord : 
Under his great vicegerent reign abide 
United as one individual soul 
For ever happy : him who disobeys, 
Me disobeys, breaks union, and that day 
Cast out from God and blessed vision, falls 
Into utter darkness, deep ingulft, his place 
Ordain'd without redemption, without end.' " 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 71 

75. This proclamation aroused the jealousy and wrath 
of one of the principal angels, whose heavenly name 
must forever remain unknown (see P. L. I. 361), but 
whom we shall call Satan, because by this title (meaning 
Enemy) he was afterwards known in Heaven. He in- 
duced all but one of the angels under his regency to 
revolt against the elevation above themselves of any 
created being, and after a three days' fight he was ex- 
pelled from Heaven with all his followers by the Son of 
God (called Messiah), and was cast into a dungeon 
especially created for him, deep in outer space. 

One-third of all the angels were thus '' amerced of 
H.eaven." To supply their vacant room and at the same 
time guard against the possibility of another revolt, God 
determined to create a World outside the bounds of 
Heaven, to place therein a new race of beings, and to 
train them in obedience before entrusting them with the 
powers and privileges of angels of Heaven. 

The Creation and the Fall of Man. 

76. We have spoken of Heaven as situated in an 
upper region of space. All the space about and beneath 
it Milton conceived to be occupied by atoms such as, 
when properly combined, compose the four forms of 
matter known to man (see 4). But these atoms, existing 
from all eternity and waiting until it should be God's 
pleasure to make them useful, knew no law and had no 
fixed place or form, drifting aimlessly about in blackest 
darkness, the sport of chance. This is Milton's interpre- 
tation of the statement of the Hebrew writer in Gene- 



72 INTRODUCTION. 

sis i. 1,2 : ^' In the beginning God created the keaven 
and the earth. And the earth was without form and 
void ; and darkness was upon the face of the deep." Ac- 
cording to this interpretation, the process of creating the 
World began, not when the atoms of matter were brought 
into existence, but when the "Spirit of God moved upon 
the face of the waters." In Milton's story this Spirit is 
identified with the Son of God, lately appointed Regent 
of Heaven under the title of Messiah, and now deputed 
to bring into existence the new AVorld. 

" ' Heaven opened wide 
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound 
On golden hinges moving, to let forth 
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word 
And Spirit coming to create new worlds. 
On Heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore 
They viewed the vast immeasurable Abyss, 
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, 
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds 
And surging waves, as mountains to assault 
Heaven's highth, and with the centre mix the pole.' " 

With golden compasses He first ascribed to the World 
its bounds, expeUing all materials unsuited to his pur- 
pose, causing the atoms about the circumference to 
become compacted into the Primum Mobile (see lo), 
and the atoms within to cease their confused motion ; 
and then on successive days uttered the commands that 
wrought the atoms into orbs, continents and oceans, 
plants and animals, as we know them to-day. 
77, On the first day, 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 73 

" Light 
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure, 
Sprung from the Deep, and from her native East 
To journey through the aery gloom began." 

On the second the firmament of heaven spanned the 

sky — 

" Expanse of liquid, pure, 
Transparent, elemental air, diffused 
In circuit to the uttermost convex 
Of this great round." 

On the third the masses of land and water were differen- 
tiated, — 

" Immediately the mountains huge appear 
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave 
Into the clouds," — 

and vegetation sprang up in abundance. On the fourth 
the Uiminous bodies (sun, moon, and stars) were set in 
the firmament of heaven; on the fifth hving creatures 
(fish and fowl) were created; on the sixth the higher 
animals, including man, crowned the work. 

78. One man (Adam) and one woman (Eve) were 
created as ancestors of the human race. They were 
placed in a garden called Paradise, situated in the dis- 
trict of Eden, near the source of the river Euphrates, and 
over this garden they were given charge. Adam gave 
names to the various animals, with all of which he lived 
on friendly terms, and the time of both Adam and Eve 
was pleasantly occupied in the care of the garden. 

T'hey were forbidden to eat of the fruit of one tree in 
this garden, called the " tree of knowledge of good and 
of evi)." In all other respects they were unhampered by 



74 INTRODUCTION. 

commands, and until this one was disobeyed, no impulse 
to any other form of sin could enter their innocent minds. 
If, however, they should transgress this command, they 
were to suffer the penalty of death. Milton interprets 
this penalty as dual in nature, and as affecting all the de- 
scendants of the pair, through the law of heredity. In 
the first place, it means physical death, since man was by 
nature immortal ; secondly, it means moral death, or the 
death of all good in the soul, which thus becomes doomed 
to endless woe. 

79. Meanwhile Satan, the leader of the rebels, had 
escaped from his prison (though not without the suffer- 
ance of the all-seeing Ruler of Heaven) and made his 
way to the newly created World. There, in the form of 
a serpent, he persuaded Eve to eat of the forbidden fruit, 
and she persuaded her husband to follow her example. 
Their minds were instantly endowed with the power to 
recognize the nature of sin, and with that sense of shame 
which is sin's inevitable accompaniment. The Creator 
punished Adam with the necessity of unceasing and pain- 
ful labor to support life, Eve with painful maternity and 
subjection to her husband, and both with immediate ex- 
pulsion from the garden, and with ultimate death. But 
severity was tempered with mercy. It was promised that 
the ''Seed^' or descendants of the pair should one day 
" bruise the serpent's head." 

80. Their earlier descendants, however, proved in 
time so sinful that all except one family, that of Noah, 
were destroyed by a flood. From the sons of Noah, after 
the flood, were traced three lines of descent, giving rise 
to three races, — the Semitic, the Hamitic, and the 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 75 

Japhetic peoples. Javan, the son of Japhet, was the 
reputed ancestor of the Ionian Greeks. 

The Hebrews. 

81. About two thousand years before the time of 
Christ, a descendant of Shem named Abram (afterward 
known as Abraham) migrated from Chaldea to Canaan 
with all the family of which he was the patriarchal head, 
and became the ancestor of the Hebrew people. He 
was held to have migrated under divine inspiration, and 
to have entered into a covenant with God, that in return 
for single-hearted worship on the part of Abraham and his 
seed, God should make of the Hebrew race a "chosen 
people," and should give the land of Canaan to them as a 
permanent possession. 

82. Abraham was succeeded by his son Isaac, and the 
headship of the tribe should have passed in the next 
generation to Isaac's eldest son, Esau. The younger 
son, Jacob, however, by craft induced his aged and blind 
father unwittingly to confer upon him the " blessing " by 
which the leader of the tribe was consecrated. Then, 
not daring to abide his elder brother's anger, he fled 
from home, seeking the protection of his Uncle Laban, 
who dwelt in the district of Padan Aram, in Chaldea, 
until Esau's anger should have time to cool. On his way 
he reposed for the night at a place called Luz (see map, 
p. 87), where he saw a wonderful vision.^ 

1 " And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set upon the earth, and 
the top of it reached to heaven : and behold the angels of God 
ascending and descending on it. And, behold, the Lord stood 



76 INTRODUCTION. 

83. Esau was afterwards appeased, and Jacob as- 
sumed the position of head of the tribe. While un- 
der the headship of Jacob (otherwise called Israel), 
the tribe, now much enlarged, was driven by a long 
famine in Canaan to migrate to Egypt and take up 
its residence in Goshen, a fertile district in the east- 
ern part of the delta of the Nile. (See map, p. 88.) 
Its members prospered and grew so numerous that the 
Egyptians, fearing that they would usurp control of the 
country, enslaved them and crushed them under burden- 
some tasks. At length God, remembering his covenant 
with Abraham, raised up for them a leader of their own 
race, Moses, to free them from bondage and restore 
them to Canaan, which had been pledged to Abraham 
and his seed as a permanent possession, and had therefore 
received the name of the Promised Land. 

84. Moses was the son of a Hebrew priest named 
Amram, but was educated at the court of Egypt as the 
adopted son of the king's daughter. 

Having become liable to punishment for a homicide 
committed in defence of one of his Hebrew brethren, he 
fled into the wilderness beyond the Red Sea, and took 
service with his uncle as a shepherd on the range of 
mountains called Horeb. Here he lived for forty years, 
and during this long period (as Milton supposes) he 
wrote by divine inspiration those books of the Old Testa- 
ment which describe the origin of the world. It was 

above it, and said : . . . I am with thee, and will keep thee in all 
places whither thou goest. . . . And Jacob awoke out of his sleep, 
and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place ! This is none other 
but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. -]•] 

revealed to him that God was henceforth to be known 
to the IsraeUtes under the new name of Jehovah, 

85. At length, under divme direction, he returned to 
Egypt and summoned its ruler, or Pharaoh, to release 
the Hebrews from slavery. On his refusal, God, through 
Moses, brought upon Egypt a series of dire plagues, 
which were intended to strike terror into the hearts of 
the monarch and people. Two of these more particu- 
larly interest us. In one of them, a swarm of locusts 
appeared from the east, summoned by the waving of 
Moses' rod, and devoured all the vegetation of the coun- 
try. In the other and final one, all the first-born in the 
land, of both men and beasts, were struck dead in the 
night. x\s this included the animals that were worshipped 
as gods in Egypt, the Pharaoh was convinced that the 
God of Israel was mightier than the gods of Egypt, and 
he therefore promptly set the Israelites free. 

86. So terror-stricken were the Egyptians that they 
freely loaned the Israelites jewels of gold and silver to 
hasten their departure ; but as soon as they had gone the 
monarch's courage returned, and he pursued with a large 
army of six hundred chariots and numerous horsemen, to 
restore to slavery the Israelitish host. 

The Israelites were overtaken at the northern end of the 
Red Sea. Through the intervention of God, an east wind 
laid bare the bed of the sea, the host passed over, and 
the Egyptian army, pursuing, was overtaken by the re- 
turning water and wholly destroyed. Milton follows the 
traditional account of his day in giving the name Busiris 
to the Egyptian monarch. 

87. After having escaped this great danger, the Israel- 



78 INTRODUCTION. 

ites wandered for years in the wilderness of the peninsula 
of Sinai, during which time they developed the tribal 
organization for which their life of slavery had hitherto 
offered no opportunity. Early in their march they dis- 
played the weakness which a life of servitude had bred in 
them ; for they lost faith in the God who had overwhelmed 
their enemies but a few days before, and complained 
that they had been led into the wilderness only to starve. 
God mercifully overlooked their ingratitude, and sent 
them from Heaven a daily supply of manna, a small round 
white grain, which tasted like "wafers made with honey." 
A little later, having reached Mount Sinai, a peak of that 
Horeb range which had been the scene of Moses' life as 
a shepherd, they received from God the Ten Command- 
ments and a detailed code of laws, together with a com- 
plete ritual for the service of God. 

88. The ordinances of the new religion were received 
from God by Moses, in secret, on the top of Mount Sinai. 
So long was he absent from the host, in communion 
with God, that the people (unfitted for self-control by 
their life of slavery) lost faith in him and his divine mis- 
sion, constructed from the gold borrowed from the 
Egyptians an image of a calf, such as they had seen wor- 
shipped in Egypt, and worshipped it with pagan rites in 
imitation of the Egyptians. Their lack of faith in the 
God who, through Moses, had brought them out of the 
house of bondage was bitterly repented, for Moses, re- 
turning, caused three thousand of the most abandoned 
revellers to be slain, in order to stamp out at once any 
tendency to idolatry ; and Jehovah, in anger at their 
ingratitude, condemned the tribe to wander in the wil- 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 79 

derness until every man then living should perish and a 
new generation grow up to inherit the Holy Land.^ 

89. With faith in Jehovah restored by the return of 
Moses, and sobered by their late experience, the people 
constructed a movable house of worship, called the 
"Tabernacle," and placed therein a holy chest, called 
the "■ Ark of the Covenant," containing their most sacred 
memorials of God's mercy to them during their wander- 
ings. Above this chest was placed a seat of pure gold, 
called the " mercy seat." Two angelic figures, called 
" cherubim," wrought out of pure gold, were placed at 
the ends of the seat, their outstretched wings overarch- 
ing so as to form a sort of canopy for the seat itself. 
The seat was reverenced as the very throne of Jehovah, 
— as his abiding-place when he was present to hear and 
answer the prayers of his chosen people. A special 
priesthood was consecrated, with Aaron, the brother of 
Moses, as High Priest. The vestments pertaining to 
this office were prescribed with great minuteness, as 
each part was intended to have a symbolic significance. 
Especially notable are the mitre ^ for the head, and the 



1 Even so severe a lesson as this did not have a permanent effect 
upon the Israelites;, for in after years, when the tribal form of gov- 
ernment had been exchanged for the monarchical form, King Jero- 
boam, who had usurped authority rightfully belonging to the son of 
Solomon (see 93), set up two golden calves for convenience of wor- 
ship, one in Bethel at the south, and the other in Dan at the 
extreme north of his Jcingdom. (See map, p. 87.) 

2 This term is now applied to the official head-dress of a bishop 
in the Roman Catholic Church. In Lycidas it is attributed to St. 
Peter as the first and greatest bishop of the Church. 



ao INTRODUCTION. 

breastplate, set with twelve precious stones, and bearing 
the Urim and Thummim (objects, probably gems, hav- 
ing a mystic virtue). 

90. For forty years this worship was kept up, while 
the people wandered about the desert, struggling against 
foes without and doubting within. Often they lost faith 
in their invisible Jehovah, and adopted the idol-worship 
of the nations among whom they wandered ; but by 
stern punishments, conjoined with merciful lenity, they 
were recalled to loyalty, and finally entered into posses- 
sion of the Promised Land. 

91. Even during the final stage of their migrations, 
while passing through the territory of the Moabites, and 
in plain view of their journey's end, they degraded 
themselves and angered Jehovah by adopting the wor- 
ship of Peor, the native deity. This "wrought them 
woe," for they were attacked by a plague sent by 
Jehovah, which destroyed twenty-four thousand men. 

92. Once in possession of Canaan, they became more 
thoroughly organized under the direction of a series of 
judges, whose authority was derived directly from Jehovah, 
and they entered upon a series of contests with the sur- 
rounding barbarous peoples. Especially spirited were 
their struggles with the Phihstines, a tribe hving on the 
seacoast. On one occasion the Ark of the Covenant 
was taken into battle against these foes, in the hope that 
the divine power of God, which was supposed to reside 
in it, might turn the scale of battle in favor of the Israel- 
ites. Jehovah, in displeasure at their presumption, allowed 
their enemies to win the victory and capture the sacred 
Ark. This was carried into Ashdod (see map, p. 87) and 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 8i 

set up as a trophy in the temple of the PhiHstines' fish- 
god, Dagon. But the presumption of the Phihstines was 
hkevvise punished. For the priests, on entering the temple 
the next morning, found Dagon lying prone on the floor 
before the Ark of God. He was restored to his place, 
but the next morning he was found prostrate on the 
threshold of his temple, with head and hands lopped off. 
The Philistines, in awe of a deity so much more powerful 
than their own, restored the Ark to the Israelites. 

93. xA regularly organized kingdom succeeded the 
government by judges. Jerusalem was selected as the 
capital city, and there the main features of the Tabernacle 
were repeated in a permanent Temple, in which was 
placed the Ark. The city of Jerusalem occupied an 
elevation having two crests, Mount Zion (Sion) and 
Mount Moriah. Although the latter was the site of the 
temple mentioned above, Zion is the name more often 
employed in reference to the city itself. Indeed, this 
word has become a symbolic name for the Church of God 
on earth, and for Heaven considered as the " Holy City." 
On the south and west side of Jerusalem the land falls 
away into the valley of Hinnom, a place of great signifi- 
cance in religious history. For King Solomon, the 
builder of the Temple, although endowed by God with 
especial wisdom for his high duties, attempted to strengthen 
his kingdom pohtically by contracting marriage alliances 
with princesses of the surrounding heathen nations. To 
please these wives he allowed the worship of their local 
gods to be established in the valley of Hinnom, and a 
later king extended the idolatrous worship even into the 
courts of the temple of Jehovah on Mount Moriah. 



82 INTRODUCTION. 

94. This worship often consisted of revolting and cruel 
rites ; in the case of the god Moloch, it included the 
sacrifice of children, while drums were beaten to drown 
their cries of agony. From these drums (Tophim) the 
place received the name Tophet. Still later. King Josiah 
purified the land of idol-worship. He assured its discon- 
tinuance in the valley of Hinnom by using that valley as 
a place for cremating the bodies of the dead, and his 
successors made it the receptacle for the offal from the 
city. The spot thus became doubly opprobrious to the 
IsraeUtes, from its pollution with idols and with filth. 
When Christ wished to illustrate to the Jews the intensity 
of the final punishment for sin, he made use of this 
familiar scene (with its fires ever burning to consume the 
worthless refuse of the city, and its worms ever feeding 
upon the corrupt and decaying masses) as a " type of 
Hell," declaring that the wicked should go away into "Ge 
Hinnom" — whence comes the word "Gehenna," a com- 
mon name for Hell. Almost equal in its evil associations, 
and detested for like reasons, was the southern crest of the 
Mount of OHves, as is indicated by its title " The Mount 
of Offence." (See map, p. 87.) 

95. The religious history of Israel from the days of 
Solomon to the time of Christ was marked by the same 
lapses of faith, the same corruption of worship, and the 
same reaction to the purer religion. From time to time 
monarchs like Ahab, having by conquest or by peaceful 
intercourse with neighboring states come into acquaint- 
ance with other religions, adopted the worship of foreign 
gods as supplementary to their own. So King Ahaz, 
although he had defeated the Syrians in several contests. 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 83 

set up an altar to their god Rimmon/ when hnmself 
worsted by other enemies. For " he said, Because the 
gods of the kings of Syria help them, therefore will I 
sacrifice to them, that they may help me. But they were 
the ruin of him, and of all Israel" (2 Chron. xxviii. 23). 
But although the kings were easily led astray, prophets 
arose from time to time, like Ezekiel {P. L. I. 455), to 
condemn the alienation of the race from the true God 
and to denounce woes upon the unfaithful monarch and 

nation. 

96. Not all of these, like Ezekiel, denounced the woes 
to come. Some, like Isaiah, bore a message of a new 
and better time, when a leader should appear under 
whose inspiration the wavering should be estabHshed, the 
doubting faith be confirmed, and the evil be purged from 
God's children. And after many years of trouble such a 
leader appeared in the person of Christ. In this poem 
Milton expresses belief that Christ was that same Messiah 
who expelled Satan's host from Heaven, now in another 
guise encountering his old foe, to complete by his temp- 
tation, and death on the cross, the victory foreshadowed 
in that earher triumph. (See 75.) 

97. But why was a second victory necessary? Why 
should a just and kind God allow Satan to escape from 



1 This he did in spite of a miracle performed shortly before by a 
prophet of Jehovah, demonstrating his superior power over Rimmon. 
For a chief officer of the king of Syria, who had failed to be cured 
of his leprosy through prayers to Rimmon, was instantly cured by 
obedience to a simple command of the Hebrew prophet (2 Kings 
V.) : " And he said, Behold now I know that there is no God in 
all the earth, but in Israel." 



84 INTRODUCTION. 

Hell and lead men astray as we have seen that he did? 
This was for centuries the one unsolvable problem of the 
Christian theology. To answer it with some fulness, both 
by reasoning and by the exhibition in one comprehensive 
picture of the " ways of God to men " from the beginning 
of the World till its end, was a leading motive in Milton's 
mind for choosing the subject of Paradise Lost for his 
epic. His solution, in the briefest possible statement, is 
as follows : — 

a. Character is worthless until it has been made robust 
by temptation strongly and voluntarily resisted. Man 
was placed on earth that he might develop a robust 
character. Therefore he must be free to sin, and must 
be exposed to temptation. 

b. Temptation could come to a sinless being only 
from without. Therefore Satan must be permitted to 
have access to man. 

c. God is both just and merciful : justice requires a 
penalty for sin, and mercy permits a loving friend to pay 
the penalty for the sinner, if the sinner is brought through 
his friend's unselfish sacrifice to the same hatred for sin, 
and strengtli to resist temptation, that lie would attain by 
paying the penalty himself. Therefore, God permitted 
his Son, moved by divine love for the sinful race of men, 
to take upon himself their life and their temptations, and 
ultimately to die in their stead. 

d. God's Providence (= foresight) perceived all this 
train of events from the beginning. Nothing was the 
effect of chance, for he knew that man would fall into 
sin and Satan would seem to triumph, but he also 
knew that to man he should ultimately give the victory 



SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY IDEAS. 85 

through his Son, and that the redeemed race, because of 
its experience on earth, would in the end be more worthy 
of Heaven than the angels whose place was now forfeited 
had ever been. 

98. It was the desire to set all this forth in convincing 
form that led Milton to utter his noble prayer : — 

" What in me is dark 
Illumine, what is low raise and support; 
That, to the highth of this great argument, 
I may assert Eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to men." 



86 



INTRODUCTION. 




Classic Lands. 
[Only those localities to which reference is made by Milton are indicated.] 



INTRODUCTION. 



87 



Longitude 35 




SCALE or MILES 



The Holy Land. 
[The form of the names of localities is that employed by Milton. 



INTRODUCTION. 





INTRODUCTION TO PARADISE LOST. 89 



INTRODUCTION TO PARADISE LOST. 

Its History. 

This poem is the result of the union in one person of 
the highest quality of poetic genius, the most exalted 
personal character, and the most unremitting industry, 
all devoted through a period of more than sixty years to 
the accomplishment of a single purpose. In this state- 
ment the early productions of Milton are not ignored ; 
for at the time when he was composing his lyrics he had 
already formed the resolution to " write something that 
the world would not willingly let die," and all his minor 
poems were but the flights in which he tried his wings to 
gain strength for the great flight " above the Aonian 
mount" (P. Z. I. 15). It was for this great work alone 
that he stored his mind with all the learning of the ages, 
and exercised his soul in all godly discipHne from earliest 
boyhood. 

Immediately upon his return from Italy in 1639, Milton 
turned his attention to the composition of his projected 
masterpiece. He noted down, in a list which still exists, 
over one hundred possible subjects from which to select, 
and seems to have considered the subject of the Arthurian 
legend ^ a very promising one. His intensely rehgious 

1 This legend deals with the Britons, or ancient inhabitants of 
England, who were early driven westward into the mountain fast- 
nesses of Wales by Saxon, Danish, and Anglian invaders, but who, 
in those retreats, long retained their pride of ancient lineage, their 



90 INTRODUCTION. 

bent, however, soon led him to fix upon the subject of 
Paradise Lost, and he next began to weigh the respective 
merits of the dramatic and the epic forms. Four tenta- 
tive drafts of characters and leading incidents, which he 
drew up at this time, exhibit clearly his progress toward 
a decision in favor of the epic form. Short passages 
were composed as early as 1642, of which one {F. L. IV. 
32-41) was originally designed to form a part of the 
introduction to the contemplated tragedy. The duties 
of his position in the public service forced him to lay this 
too ambitious work aside for sixteen years, to renew it only 
when failing sight had made him unable longer to bear an 
active share in the duties of the secretaryship, although 
he still held the position. About eight years were spent 
in the actual composition of the poem ; much of this 
time he was blind, and was compelled to dictate to some 
assistant each day the lines freshly composed. I'he work 
was completed in 1665, was pubhshed in 1667, and met 
with immediate acceptance in the world of literature as 
one of the few great masterpieces of its class. 

Druidic religion, and their Celtic speech. The legend describes how, 
about the sixth century, to King Uther succeeded his son Arthur, 
whose brilliant reign was marked by great advances in civilization. 
Arthur gathered about him a group of noble warriors called the 
" Knights of the Round Table," sworn to crush lawlessness, eschew 
vice, protect the weak, and defend the kingdom from Saxon in- 
vaders. Their adventures would undoubtedly have afforded Milton 
abundant opportunity for the exhibition of his genius in epic 
composition. 



INTRODUCTION TO PARADISE LOST. 91 

Its Characteristics. 

And here we are led to inquire, "What constitutes 
a masterpiece of the epic class?" The answer to this 
question should be sought by the reader in the work 
itself, but it may be well to offer a few suggestions to 
guide his search. 

In the first place, an epic, as a narrative of a series of 
events, must necessarily be a poem of great length. Its 
subject must therefore be of a serious and noble character, 
worthy of exhaustive treatment, and the events must be 
of a dramatic nature ; that is, they must centre around 
some common object of interest, they must tend towards 
some important issue, they must form a succession of 
minor episodes, varied in character and each a minor 
climax in itself. Only thus can interest in so pretentious 
a work be kept unimpaired. Furthermore, the subject 
must be so related to humanity, so removed from purely 
local or merely transitory interests, that no difference 
of place or time can destroy the interest that it has for 
mankind. 

Secondly, the style must rise to '^ the highth of the 
great argument," and this impHes that the poet must 
have command of a large vocabulary, must have an ear 
attuned to the melody of spoken sound and a taste 
developed by acquaintance with the best literature of all 
ages, and must feel an eager enthusiasm for his subject. 
He must be a master, not of style, but of styles, since he 
must alternate narration with description, and treat scenes 
of the most varied nature. Herein lies the explanation of 
the rarity of great epics. Poetic inspiration is rarely con- 



92 INTRODUCTION. 

tinuous for any long time, and only consummate genius 
can write for thousands of lines, adhering to a uniformly 
strong and musical style, yet avoiding artificiality and dis- 
sonance between subject and expression. 

Thirdly, the iiietricalform must be suited to the dig- 
nity of the theme, chanting in stately rhythm the paean 
of noble deeds, subtly adapting itself to the varying sub- 
ject, yet never becoming trivial or commonplace, lend- 
ing the power of its onward impulse to carry the reader 
with unabated interest from page to page of the long 
narrative. 

The selections from Paradise Lost that follow are 
intended to enable the reader to determine for himself 
Milton's claim to a place among the great epic poets. 
They include the principal portions of the poem which 
deal with the career of Satan, the central figure of the 
first two books if not of the entire poem. If the student 
brings to the reading a mind prepared by an examination 
of the conditions under which Milton wrote, and pos- 
sessed of an intelligent idea of the task to which Milton 
applied himself, he cannot fail to find both pleasure and 
profit in the perusal of the poem. Suggestions to direct 
his thought and to quicken his perception of points that 
might easily pass unnoticed will be found at the conclu- 
sion of the selections (p. 232). 



THE VERSE. 

The measure is English heroic vers e without rime, as 
that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin — rime 
being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or 
good verse, in longer works especially, but the invention 
of a barbarious age, to set off wretched matter and lame 
metre ; graced indeed since by the use of some famous 
modern poets, carried away by custom, but much to their 
own vexation, hindrance, and constraint to express many 
things otherwise, and for the most part worse, than else 
they would have expressed them. Not without cause 
therefore some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime 
note have rejected rime both in longer and shorter works, 
as have also long since our best English tragedies, as a 
thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial and of no true 
musical delight ; which consists only in apt numbers, fit 
quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out 
from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of 
like endings — a fault avoided by the learned ancients 
both in poetry and all good oratory. This neglect then 
of rime so little is to be taken for a defect, though it 
may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather is 
to be esteemed an example set, the first in English, of 
ancient liberty recovered to heroic poem from the trouble- 
some and modern bondage of riming. — \_Front Miltoii's 
Preface^ 

93 



PARADISE LOST. 

BOOK I. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

This First Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject — Man's 
disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise, wherein he was 
placed : then touches the prime cause of his fall — the Serpent, or rather 
Satan in the Serpent; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side 
many legions of Angels, was, by the command of God, driven out of 
Heaven, with all his crew, into the great Deep. Which action passed 
over, the Poem hastens into the midst of things ; presenting Satan, with 
his Angels, now fallen into Hell — described here not in the Centre (for 
heaven and earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet 
accursed), but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos. Here 
Satan, with his Angels lying on the burning lake, thunderstruck and 
astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from confusion; calls up 
him who, next in order and dignity, lay by him : they confer of their mis- 
erable fall. Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same 
manner confounded. They rise : their numbers ; array of battle ; their 
chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan, 
and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech ; com- 
forts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven ; but tells them, lastly, of 
a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an 
ancient prophecy, or report, in Heaven — for that Angels were long 
before this visible creation was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. To 
find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he 
refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemo- 
nium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the Deep : the infer- 
nal Peers there sit in council. 

96 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 97 



BOOK I. 

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the World, and all our woe,^ 
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man - 
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat. 
Sing, Heavenly Muse,'' that, on the secret top 
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire 
That shepherd ■* who first taught the chosen seed 
In the beginning how the heavens and earth 
Rose out of Chaos : or, if Sion hill^ 
Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed 
Fast by the oracle of God,* I thence 
Invoke thy aid to my adventrous song. 
That with no middle flight intends to soar 
Above the Aonian mount,*^ while it pursues 
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. 
And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer 
Before all temples the upright heart and pure. 
Instruct me, for Thou know'st ; Thou from the first 
Wast present, and, with 'mighty wings outspread. 
Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast Abyss,! 
And mad'st it pregnant : whaLin^me is dark 

1 78, 79. 2 97, 3 36. 4 70, 84, 81, 76, 88. 5 93_ 6 36. 
* See map, p. 88. f VII. 230 + . 

H 



98 PARADISE LOST. [Book I 

Illumine, what is low raise and support ; 
That, to the highth of this great argument, 
I may assert Eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to men.^ 

Say first — for Heaven hides nothing from thy view. 
Nor the deep tract of Hell — say first what cause 
Moved our grand Parents, in that happy state. 
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off 30 

From their Creator, and transgress his will 
For one restraint, lords of the World besides. 
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? 

The infernal Serpent ; - he it was whose guile, 
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived 
The mother of mankind, what time his pride 
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host 
Of rebel Angels,^ by whose aid, aspiring 
To set himself in glory above his peers. 
He trusted to have equalled the Most High, 40 

If he opposed, and, with ambitious aim 
Against the throne and monarchy of God, 
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud, 
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power 
Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal '' sky,* 
With hideous ruin and combustion, down 
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell 
In adamantine chains and penal fire, 
Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms. 

Nine times the space that measures day and night 50 
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew, 

1 97, 98. 2 79. 3 ^4^ 75, 45. * VI. 856-866. 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 99 

Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf, 

Confounded, though immortal. But his doom 

Reserved him to more wrath ; for now the thought 

Both of lost happiness and lasting pain 

Torments him : round he throws his baleful eyes. 

That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, 

Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. 

At once, as far as Angel's ken, he views 

The dismal situation waste and wild. 60 

A dungeon horrible, on all sides round. 

As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames 

No light ; but rather darkness visible 

Served only to discover sights of woe. 

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes 

That comes to all, but torture without end 

Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed 

With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed. 

Such place Eternal Justice had prepared 70 

For those rebellious ; here their prison ordained 

In utter darkness, and their portion set. 

As far removed from God and light of Heaven 

As from the centre ^ thrice to the utmost pole. 

Oh how unlike the place from whence they feU ! 

There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmed 

With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, 

He soon discerns ; and, weltering by his side, 

One next himself in power, and next in crime. 

Long after known in Palestine, and named 80 



L.ofC. 



loo PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Beelzebub. To whom the Arch-Enemy, 

And thence in Heaven called Satan^ with bold words 

Breaking the horrid silence, thus began : — 

" If thou beest he — but Oh how fallen ! how changed 
From him ! — who, in the happy realms of light, 
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine 
Myriads, though bright — if he whom mutual league. 
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope 
And hazard in the glorious enterprise. 
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined 90 

In equal ruin ; into what pit thou seest 
From what highth fallen : so much the stronger proved 
He with his thunder : and till then who knew 
The force of those dire arms ? Yet not for those. 
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage 
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change, 
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind. 
And high disdain from sense of injured merit. 
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend. 
And to the fierce contention brought along too 

Innumerable force of Spirits armed. 
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring. 
His utmost power with adverse power opposed 
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven, 
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? 
All is not lost — the unconquerable will. 
And study of revenge, immortal hate, 
And courage never to submit or yield — 
And what is else not to be overcome ? — 



^75- 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. loi 

That glory never shall his wrath or might no 

Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace 

With suppliant knee, and deify his power 

Who, from the terror of this arm, so late 

Doubted his empire — that were low indeed ; 

That were an ignominy and shame beneath 

This downfall ; since, by fate, the strength of Gods, 

And this empyreal substance,^ cannot fail ; 

Since, through experience of this great event, 

In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced. 

We may with more successful hope resolve 120 

To wage by force or guile eternal war, 

Irreconcilable to our grand Foe, 

Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy 

Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven." 

So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain, 
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair ; 
And him thus answered soon his bold compeer : — 

" O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers 
That led the embattled Seraphim to war 
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds 130 

Fearless, endangered Heaven's perpetual King,* 
And put to proof his high supremacy. 
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate ! 
Too well I see and rue the dire event 
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat, 
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host 
In horrible destruction laid thus low. 
As far as Gods and Heavenly Essences ^ 

1 5. * II. 992. 



I02 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Can perish : for the mind and spirit remains 

Invincible, and vigour soon returns, 140 

Though all our glory extinct, and happy state 

Here swallowed up in endless misery. 

But what if He our Conqueror (whom I now 

Of force beHeve almighty, since no less 

Than such could have o'erpowered such force as ours) 

Have left us this our spirit and strength entire, 

Strongly to suffer and support our pains. 

That we may so suffice his vengeful ire. 

Or do him mightier service as his thralls 

By right of war, whate'er his business be, 150 

Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire, 

Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep ? 

What can it then avail though yet we feel 

Strength undiminished, or eternal being 

To undergo eternal punishment?" 

Whereto with speedy words the Arch- Fiend replied : — 
" Fallen Cherub,^ to be weak is miserable, 
Doing or suffering : but of this be sure — 
To do aught good never will be our task, 
But ever to do ill our sole delight, 160 

As being the contrary to His high will 
Whom we resist. If then his providence 
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,- 
Our labour must be to pervert that end. 
And out of good still to find means of evil ; 
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps 
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb 

1 72. 2 97, 98. 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 103 

His inmost counsels from their destined aim. 

But see ! the angry Victor hath recalled 

His ministers of vengeance and pursuit* 170 

Back to the gates of Heaven : the sulphurous hail, 

Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid 

The fiery surge that from the precipice 

Of Heaven received us falling ; and the thunder. 

Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage, t 

Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now 

To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep. 

Let us not slip the occasion, whether scorn 

Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe. 

Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, 180 

The seat of desolation, void of light, 

Save what the ghmmering of these livid flames 

Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend 

From off the tossing of these fiery waves ; 

There rest, if any rest can harbour there ; 

And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, 

Consult how we may henceforth most offend 

Our enemy, our own loss how repair. 

How overcome this dire calamity, 

What reinforcement we may gain from hope, 190 

If not what resolution from despair.'' 

Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate, 
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes 
That sparkling blazed ; his other parts besides 
Prone on the flood, extended long and large, 
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge 

*IL 996 + . tVL 831-855. 



I04 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

As whom the fables name of monstrous size, 

Titanian/ or Earth-born that warred on Jove,^ 

Briareos,^ or Typhon, whom the den 

By ancient Tarsus held,'' or that sea-beast 200 

Leviathan,* which God of all his works 

Created hugest that swim the ocean-stream. 

Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam, 

The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff, 

Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell. 

With fixed anchor in his scaly rind. 

Moors by his side under the lee, while night 

Invests the sea, and wished morn delays. 

So stretched out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay. 

Chained on the burning lake ; nor ever thence 210 

Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will 

And high permission of all-ruling Heaven 

Left him at large to his own dark designs. 

That with reiterated crimes he might 

Heap on himself damnation, while he sought 

Evil to others, and enraged might see 

How all his malice served but to bring forth 

Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn 

On Man by him seduced, but on himself 

Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured. 220 

Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool 
His mighty stature ; on each hand the flames 
Driven backward slope their pointing spires, and, rolled 
In billows, leave i' the midst a horrid vale. 
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight 

1 28. •--' 29, 32. 3 31. 4 32. * VIL 412. 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 105 

Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air, 

Tliat felt unusual weight ; till on dry land 

He lights — if it were land that ever burned 

With solid, as the lake with liquid fire, 

And such appeared in hue as when the force 230 

Of subterranean wind transports a hill 

Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side 

Of thundering ALtna., whose combustible 

And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire. 

Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds. 

And leave a singed bottom all involved 

With stench and smoke.^ Such resting found the sole 

Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate ; 

Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood 

As gods, and by their own recovered strength, 240 

Not by the sufferance of supernal power. 

' Is this the region, this the soil, the chme," 
Said then the lost Archangel,- " this the seat 
That we must change for Heaven? — this mournful gloom 
For that celestial light ? Be it so, since He 
Who now is sovran can dispose and bid 
What shall be right : farthest from Him is best. 
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme 
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, 
Where joy for ever dwells ! Hail, horrors ! hail, 250 

Infernal world ! and thou, profoundest Hell, 
Receive thy new possessor — one who brings 
A mind not to be changed by place or time. 
The mind is its own place,* and in itself 

1 See Biographical Outline, p. 6. '•- 72. * IV. 75. 



io6 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. 

What matter where, if I be still the same. 

And what I should be, all but less than he 

Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least 

We shall be free ; the Almighty hath not built 

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence : 26a 

Here we may reign secure ; and, in my choice. 

To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell : 

Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. 

But wherefore let we then our faithful friends. 

The associates and co-partners of our loss. 

Lie thus astonished on the oblivious pool, 

And call them not to share with us their part 

In this unhappy mansion, or once more 

With rallied arms to try what may be yet 

Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell? " 270 

So Satan spake ; and him Beelzebub 
Thus answered : — " Leader of those armies bright 
Which, but the Omnipotent, none could have foiled ! 
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge 
Of hope in fears and dangers — heard so oft 
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge 
Of battle, when it raged, in all assaults 
Their surest signal — they will soon resume 
New courage and revive, though now they lie 
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire, 280 

As we erewhile, astounded and amazed ; 
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious highth ! " 

He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend 
Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield,* 

* VI. 254. ^ 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 107 

Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, 

Behind him cast. The broad circumference 

Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb 

Through optic glass * the Tuscan artist views 

At evening, from the top of Fesole, 

Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, 290 

Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.^ 

His spear — to equal which the tallest pine 

Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast 

Of some great ammiral, were but a wand — 

He walked with, to support uneasy steps 

Over the burning marie, not like those steps 

On Heaven's azure ; and the torrid clime 

Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire. 

Nathless he so endured, till on the beach 

Of that inflamed sea he stood, and called 300 

His legions — Angel Forms, who lay entranced 

Thick as autumnal leaves 'that strow the brooks 

In Vallombrosa,^ where the Etrurian shades 

High over-arched embower ; or scattered sedge 

Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion ^ armed 

Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew 

Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,'' 

While with perfidious hatred they pursued 

The sojourners of Goshen,^ who beheld 

From the safe shore their floating carcases 310 

And broken chariot- wheels. So thick bestrewn, 



^ See Biographical Outline, p. 5; and 17. 

2 See Biographical Outline, p. 5. ^ \2, 16. * §5. 

* III. 590 



io8 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Abject and lost, lay these, covering the flood, 

Under amazement of their hideous change. 

He called so loud that all the hollow deep 

Of Hell resounded : — " Princes, Potentates, 

Warriors, the Flower of Heaven — once yours ; now lost, 

If such astonishment as this can seize 

Eternal Spirits ! Or have ye chosen this place 

After the toil of battle to repose 

Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find 320 

To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven? 

Or in this abject posture have ye sworn 

To adore the Conqueror, who now beholds 

Cherub and Seraph ^ rolling in the flood 

With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon 

His swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern 

The advantage, and, descending, tread us down 

Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts 

Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf? — 

Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen ! " 330 

They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung 
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch. 
On duty sleeping found by whom they dread. 
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake. 
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight 
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel ; 
Yet to their General's voice they soon obeyed 
Innumerable. As when the potent rod 
Of Amram's son,- in Egypt's evil day. 
Waved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud 340 

1 72. 2 ss, 85. 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 109 

Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind, 

That o'er the reahn of impious Pharaoh hung 

Like Night, and darkened all the land of Nile . 

So numberless were those bad Angels seen 

Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell, 

'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires ; 

Till, as a signal given, the uplifted spear 

Of their great Sultan waving to direct 

Their course, in even balance down they light 

On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain : 350 

A multitude like which the populous North 

Poured never from her frozen loins to pass 

Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons 

Came like a deluge on the South, and spread 

Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands. 

Forthwith, from every squadron and each band. 

The heads and leaders thither haste where stood 

Their great Commander — godlike Shapes, and Forms 

Excelling human ; princely Dignities ; 

And Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones, 360 

Though of their names in Heavenly records now 

Be no memorial, blotted out and rased 

By their rebellion from the Books of Life. 

Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve 

Got them new names, till, wandering o'er the earth, 

Through God's high sufferance for the trial of man, 

By falsities and Hes * the greatest part 

Of mankind they corrupted to forsake 

God their Creator, and the invisible 

* I. 740-747- 



no PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Glory of Him that made them to transform 370 

Oft to the image of a brute, adorned 

With gay rehgions full of pomp and gold, 

And devils to adore for deities : 

Then were they known to men by various names, 

x^nd various idols through the heathen world. 

Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last, 
Roused from the slumber on that fiery couch, 
At their great Emperor's call, as next in worth 
Came singly where he stood on the bare strand. 
While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof. 380 

The chief were those who, from the pit of Hell 
Roaming to seek their prey on Earth, durst fix 
Their seats, long after, next the seat of God, 
Their altars by His altar, gods adored 
Among the nations round, and durst abide 
Jehovah thundering out of Sion, throned 
Between the Cherubim ; ^ yea, often placed 
Within His sanctuary itself their shrines. 
Abominations ; and with cursed things 
His holy rites and solemn feasts profaned, 390 

And with their darkness durst affront His light. 
First, Moloch* horrid king, besmeared with blood 
Of human sacrifice, and parents' tears ; 
Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, 
Their children's cries unheard that passed through fire 
To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite 
Worshiped in Rabba and her watery plain, 
In Argob and in Basan, to the stream 

1 89, 93. * n. 43. 

f 

( 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. in 

Of utmost Arnon.^ Nor content with such 

Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart 400 

Of Solomon he led by fraud to build 

His temple right against the temple of God 

On that opprobrious hill,- and made his grove 

The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence 

And black Gehenna called, the type of Hell. 

Next Chemos, the obscene dread of Moab's sons, 

From Aroar to Nebo and the wild 

Of southmost Abarim ; in Hesebon 

And Horonaim, Seon's realm, beyond 

The flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines, 410 

And Eleal^ to the Asphaltic Pool : 

Feor his other name, when he enticed 

Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile, 

To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.^ 

Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged 

Even to that hill of scandal,- by the grove 

Of Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate, 

Till good Josiah drove them thence to Hell. 

With these came they who, from the bordering flood 

Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts 420 

Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names 

Oi Baalim and Ashta^vth — those male. 

These feminine. For Spirits,* when they please. 

Can either sex assume, or both ; so soft 

And uncompounded is their essence pure. 

Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, 

1 See map, p. 87, for these and places following, to 505. 
293,94. 891. * VI. 344 + . 



in PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, 

Like cumbrous flesh ; but, in what shape they choose. 

Dilated or condensed,* bright or obscure. 

Can execute their aery purposes, 430 

And works of love or enmity fulfil. 

For those the race of Israel oft forsook 

Their Living Strength, and unfreqijented left 

His righteous altar, bowing lowly down 

To bestial gods ; for which their heads, as low 

Bowed down in battle, sunk before the spear 

Of despicable foes.^ With these in troop 

Came Astoreth^ whom the Phoenicians called 

Astarte,- queen of heaven, with crescent horns ; | 

To whose bright image nightly by the moon 440 

Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs ; 

In Sion also not unsung, where stood 

Her temple on the offensive mountain,'^ built 

By that uxorious king whose heart, though large, 

Beguiled by fair idolatresses, fell 

To idols foul. Thainmuz came next behind, 

Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured 

The Syrian damsels to lament his fate 

In amorous ditties all a summer's day, 

While smooth Adonis from his native rock 450 

Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood 

Of Thammuz yearly wounded : ^ the love-tale 

Infected Sion's daughters with Hke heat, 

Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch 

1 88, 95. 2 46. 3 93^ 94. 4 47. 

* I. 789. t VII. 366; 14. 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 113 

Ezekiel saw, when, by the vision led, 

His eye surveyed the dark idolatries 

Of alienated Judah.^ Next came one 

Who mourned in earnest, when the captive ark 

Maimed his brute image, head and hands lopt off, 

In his own temple, on the grunsel-edge, 460 

Where he fell flat and shamed his worshipers : - 

Dagon his name, sea- monster, upward man 

And downward fish ; yet had his temple high 

Reared in Azotus, dreaded through the coast 

Of Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon, 

And Accaron and Gaza's frontier bounds. 

Him followed Rimmon, whose delightful seat 

Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks 

Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams. 

He also against the house of God was bold : 470 

A leper once he lost, and gained a king — 

Ahaz, his sottish conqueror, whom he drew 

God's altar to disparage and displace 

For one of Syrian mode, whereon to burn 

His odious offerings, and adore the gods 

Whom he had vanquished.^ After these appeared 

A crew who, under names of old renown — 

Osiris, /sis, Orus, and their train — 

With monstrous shapes and sorceries abused 

Fanatic Egypt and her priests to seek 480 

Their wandering gods disguised in brutish forms 

Rather than human.'^ Nor did Israel scape 

The infection, when their borrowed gold composed 

1 96. 2 g2. 3 p^. 4 ^^^ 

I 



114 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

The calf in Oreb;' and the rebel king 

Doiibleii that sin in Bethel and in Dan,^ 

Likening his Maker to the grazed ox — 

Jehovah, who, in one night, when he passed 

From Egypt marching, equalled with one stroke 

Both her lirst-born and all her bleating gods.'" 

Belial* came last ; than whom a Spirit more lewd 490 

Fell not from Heaven, or more gross to love 

Vice for itself. To him no temple stood 

Or altar smoked ; yet who more oft than he 

In temples and at altars, when the priest 

Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who filled 

With lust and violence the house of Clod ? 

In courts and palaces he also reigns, 

And in luxurious cities, where the noise 

Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers. 

And injury and outrage ; and, when night 500 

Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 

Of BeUal, flown with insolence and wine. 

Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night 

In Gibeah, when the hospitable door 

Exposed a matron, to avoid worse rape. 

These were the prime in order and in might : 
The rest were long to tell ; though far renowned 
The Ionian god5 — of Javan's issue* held 
Gods, yet confessed later than Heaven and Earth, 
Their boasted parents ; — Titan^ Heaven's first-born, 510 
With his enormous brood, and birthright seized 



1 86. 88. - 88, note. » 85. ^ 80. ^ 29. 

* II. 109; VI. 620. 



H()(jK I.] PARADISE LOST. 115 

By younger Saturn : he from mightier Jove, 

His own and Rhea's son, Hke measure found ;^ 

'60 Jove usurping reigned. These, first in Crete 

And Ida known,'*^ thence on the snowy top 

Of cold Olympus" ruled the middle air, 

Their highest heaven ; or on the Delphian ' cliff, 

Or in Dodona,"' and through all the Ijounds 

Of Doric land ; or who with Saturn old 

Fled over Adria'' to the Hesperian" fields, 520 

And o'er the Celtic roamed the utmost Isles. 

All these and more came flocking ; but with looks 
Downcast and damp ; yet such wherein appeared 
Obscure some glimpse of joy to have found their Chief 
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost 
In loss itself; which on his countenance cast 
Like doubtful hue. But he, his wonted pride 
Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore 
Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised 
Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears : 530 

Then straight commands that, at the warlike sound 
Of trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared 
His mighty standard. That proud honour claimed 
Azazel as his right, a Cherub tall : 
Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled 
The imperial ensign ; which, full high advanced. 
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind, 
With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed. 
Seraphic arms and trophies ; all the while 

1 31. 2 T^^^ tjee map, p. 86, for all these places. 

3 33. 4 39. 5 ^i_ 6 gee Glossary. 



ii6 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds : 540 

At which the universal host up-sent 

A shout that tore Hell's concave, and beyond 

Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. 

All in a moment through the gloom were seen 

Ten thousand banners rise into the air, 

With orient colours waving : with them rose 

A forest huge of spears ; and thronging helms 

Appeared, and serried shields in thick array 

Of depth immeasurable. Anon they move 

In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 550 

Of flutes and soft recorders — such as raised 

To highth of noblest temper heroes old 

xA.rming to battle, and instead of rage 

Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved 

With dread of death to flight or foul retreat ; 

Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 

With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase 

Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain 

From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they. 

Breathing united force with fixed thought, 560 

Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed 

Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil. And now 

Advanced in view they stand — a horrid front 

Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise 

Of warriors old, with ordered spear and shield, 

Awaiting what command their mighty Chief 

Had to impose. He through the armed files 

Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverse 

The whole battalion views — their order due, 

Their visages and stature as of gods; 570 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 117 

Their number last he sums. And now his heart 

Distends with pride, and, hardening in his strength, 

Glories : for never, since created Man, 

Met such embodied force as, named with these, 

Could merit more than that small infantry* 

Warred on by cranes ^ — though all the giant brood 

Of Phlegra" with the heroic race were joined 

That fought at Thebes '^ and Ihum,"^ on each side 

Mixed with auxiliar gods ; and what resounds 

In fable or romance of Uther's son,' 580 

Begirt with British and Armoric knights ; 

And all who since, baptized or infidel,! 

Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban, 

Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, 

Or whom Biserta sent from x\fric shore 

When Charlemain with all his peerage fell 

By Fontarabbia.^ Thus far these beyond 

Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed 

Their dread Commander. He, above the rest 

In shape and gesture proudly eminent, 590 

Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost 

All her original brightness, nor appeared 

Less than Archangel ruined, and the excess 

Of glory obscured : as when the sun new-risen 

Looks through the horizontal misty air 

Shorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon, 

In dim eclipse, disastrous twihght sheds 

On half the nations, and with fear of change 

1 56. 2 32. 3 66. 4 64, 65. 5 See p. 89, foot-note. 
♦1.780. 11.763 + . 



ii8 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

Perplexes monarchs.^ Darkened so, yet shone 

Above them all the Archangel : but his face 600 

Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care 

Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows 

Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride 

Waiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast 

Signs of remorse and passion, to behold 

The fellows of his crime, the followers rather 

(Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned 

For ever now to have their lot in pain — 

Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced 

Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung 610 

For his revolt — yet faithful how they stood, 

Their glory withered ; as, when heaven's fire 

Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines. 

With singed top their stately growth, though bare. 

Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared 

To speak ; whereat their doubled ranks they bend 

From wing to wing, and half enclose him round 

With all his peers : Attention held them mute. 

Thrice he assayed, and thrice, in spite of scorn. 

Tears, such as Angels weep, burst forth : at last 620 

Words interwove with sighs found out their way : — 

'' O myriads of immortal Spirits ! O Powers 
Matchless, but with the Almighty ! — and that strife 
Was not inglorious, though the event was dire, 
As this place testifies, and this dire change. 
Hateful to utter. But what power of mind. 
Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth 



^13. 



Book I.] PARADISE LOST. 119 

Of knowledge past or present, could have feared 

How such united force of gods, how such 

As stood like these, could ever know repulse ? 630 

For who can yet believe, though after loss. 

That all these puissant legions, whose exile 

Hath emptied Heaven,* shall fail to re-ascend, 

Self-raised, and re-possess their native seat? 

For me, be witness all the host of Heaven, 

If counsels different, or danger shunned 

By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns 

Monarch in Heaven till then as one secure 

Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute. 

Consent or custom, and his regal state 640 

Put forth at full, but still his strength concealed — 

Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. 

Henceforth his might we know, and know our own. 

So as not either to provoke, or dread 

New war provoked : our better part remains 

To work in close design, by fraud or guile, 

What force effected not ; that he no less 

At length from us may find, Who overcomes 

By force hath overcome but half his foe. 

Space may produce new Worlds ; whereof so rife f 650 

There went a ftime in Heaven that He ere long 

Intended to create, and therein plant 

A generation whom his choice regard 

Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven. 

Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps 

Our first eruption — thither, or elsewhere ; 



♦11.692. til. 345 + - 



I20 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

For this infernal pit shall never hold 

Celestial Spirits in bondage, nor the Abyss 

Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts 

Full counsel must mature. Peace is despaired ; 660 

For who can think submission? War, then, war 

Open or understood, must be resolved." 

He spake ; and, to confirm his words, out-flew 
Millions of flaming swords,^ drawn from the thighs 
Of mighty Cherubim ; the sudden blaze 
Far round illumined Hell. Highly they raged 
Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms 
Clashed on their sounding shields the din of war. 
Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven. 

There stood a hill not far, whose grisly top 670 

Belched fire and rolling smoke ; the rest entire 
Shone with a glossy scurf — undoubted sign 
That in his womb was hid metallic ore. 
The work of sulphur.^ Thither, winged with speed, 
A numerous brigad hastened : as when bands 
Of pioneers, with spade and pickaxe armed, 
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, 
Or cast a rampart. Mammon* led them on — 
Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell 679 

From Heaven ; for even in Heaven his looks and thoughts 
Were always downward bent, admiring more 
The riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold. 
Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed 
In vision beatific. By him first 
Men also, and by his suggestion taught, 

1 73. 2 6, * II, 228. 



Book L] PARADISE LOST. 121 

Ransacked the Centre/ and with impious hands 

Rifled the bowels of their mother Earth 

For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew 

Opened into the hill a spacious wound, 

And digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire 690 

That riches grow in Hell ; that soil may best 

Deserve the precious bane. And here let those 

Who boast in mortal things, and wondering tell 

Of Babel,- and the works of Memphian ^ kings, 

Learn how their greatest monuments of fame, 

And strength, and art, are easily outdone 

By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour 

What in an age they, with incessant toil 

And hands innumerable, scarce perform. 

Nigh on the plain, in many cells prepared, 700 

That underneath had veins of liquid fire 

Sluiced from the lake, a second multitude 

With wondrous art founded the massy ore, 

Severing each kind, and scummed the bullion-dross. 

A third as soon had formed within the ground 

A various mould, and from the boiling cells 

By strange conveyance filled each hollow nook ; 

As in an organ, from one blast of wind, 

To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes. 

Anon out of the earth a fabric huge 710 

Rose like an exhalation, with the sound 

Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet — 

Built like a temple, where pilasters round 

Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid 

18. 256. 



122 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

With golden architrave ; nor did there want 

Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven : 

The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon ^ 

Nor great Alcairo such magnificence 

Equalled in all their glories, to enshrine 

Belus or Serapis ^ their gods, or seat 720 

Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove 

In wealth and luxury. The ascending pile 

Stood fixed her stately highth ; and straight the doors, 

Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide 

Within, her ample spaces o'er the smooth 

And level pavement : from the arched roof, 

Pendent by subtle magic, many a row 

Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 

With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light 

As from a sky. The hasty multitude -jt^o 

Admiring entered ; and the work some praise. 

And some the architect. His hand was known 

In Heaven by many a towered structure high, 

Where sceptred Angels held their residence,^ 

And sat as Princes, whom the supreme King 

Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, 

Each in his hierarchy, the Orders bright. 

Nor was his name unheard or unadored 

In ancient Greece ; and in Ausonian land 

Men called him Mulciber;"* and how he fell 740 

From Heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove 

Sheer o'er the crystal battlements : from morn 

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 

156. 255. 872. Us- 



Book L] PARADISE LOST. 123 

A summer's day, and with the setting sun 

Dropt from the zenith, hke a falHng star, 

On Lemnos, the JEgdda.n isle. Thus they relate. 

Erring ; for he with this rebellious rout 

Fell long before ; nor aught availed him now 

To have built in Heaven high towers ; nor did he scape 

By all his engines, but was headlong sent, 750 

With his industrious crew, to build in Hell. 

Meanwhile the winged Haralds, by command 
Of sovran power, with awful ceremony 
And trumpet's sound, throughout the host proclaim 
A solemn council forthwith to be held 
At Pandemonium, the high capital 
Of Satan and his peers. Their summons called 
From every band and squared regiment 
By place or choice the worthiest : they anon 
With hundreds and with thousands trooping came 760 
Attended. All access was thronged ; the gates 
And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall 
(Though like a covered field, where champions bold 
Wont ride in armed,* and at the Soldan's chair 
Defied the best of Panim chivalry 
To mortal combat, or career with lance), 
Thick swarmed, both on the ground and in the air, 
Brushed with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees 
In spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus ^ rides, 
Pour forth their populous youth about the hive 770 

In clusters ; they among fresh dews and flowers 
Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, 

1 12. * I. 582. 



124 PARADISE LOST. [Book I. 

The suburb of their straw-built citadel, 

New rubbed with balm, expatiate, and confer 

Their state-affairs : so thick the aery crowd 

Swarmed and were straitened ; till, the signal given. 

Behold a wonder ! They but now who seemed 

In bigness to surpass Earth's giant sons, 

Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room 

Throng numberless — like that pygmean race * 780 

Beyond the Indian mount ; ^ or faery elves. 

Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side 

Or fountain, some belated peasant sees. 

Or dreams he sees, while overhead the Moon f 

Sits arbitress, and nearer to the Earth 

Wheels her pale course : - they, on their mirth and dance 

Intent, with jocund music charm his ear ; 

At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. 

Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms 

Reduced their shapes immense,! and were at large, 790 

Though without number still, amidst the hall 

Of that infernal court. But far within. 

And in their own dimensions like themselves, 

The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim 

In close recess and secret conclave sat, 

A thousand demi-gods on golden seats. 

Frequent and full. After short silence then. 

And summons read, the great consult began. 

1 56. 2 19. 

♦ 1. 575- t n. 665. X I. 423. 



PARADISE LOST. 

BOOK II. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to 
be hazarded for the recovery of Heaven: some advise it, others dis- 
suade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan — to 
search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in Heaven concerning 
another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much inferior, 
to themselves, about this time to be created. Their doubt who shall 
be sent on this difficult search : Satan, their chief, undertakes alone the 
voyage ; is honoured and applauded. The council thus ended, the 
rest betake them several ways and to several employments, as their in- 
clinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes 
on his journey to Hell-gates ; finds them shut, and who sat there to 
guard them ; by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him 
the great gulf between Hell and Heaven. With what difficulty he 
passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight 
of this new World which he sought. 

126 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 127 



BOOK II. 

High on a throne of royal state, which far 

Outshone the wealth of Ormus ^ and of Ind, 

Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand 

Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 

Satan exalted sat, by merit raised 

To that bad eminence; and, from despair 

Thus high uphfted beyond hope, aspires 

Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue 

Vain war with Heaven ; and, by success untaught, 

His proud imaginations thus displayed : — 

" Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven ! — 
For, since no deep within her gulf can hold 
Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen, 
I give not Heaven for lost : from this descent 
Celestial Virtues rising will appear 
More glorious and more dread than from no fall, 
And trust themselves to fear no second fate ! — 
Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven, 
Did first create your leader — next, free choice. 
With what besides in council or in fight 
Hath been achieved of merit — yet this loss. 
Thus far at least recovered, hath much more 
Estabhshed in a safe, unenvied throne. 



56. 



128 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Yielded with full consent. The happier state 

In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw 

Envy from each inferior ; but who here 

Will envy whom the highest place exposes 

Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim 

Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share 

Of endless pain ? Where there is, then, no good 30 

For which to strive, no strife can grow up there 

From faction : for none sure will claim in Hell 

Precedence ; none whose portion is so small 

Of present pain that with ambitious mind 

Will covet more ! With this advantage, then. 

To union, and firm faith, and firm accord. 

More than can be in Heaven, we now return 

To claim our just inheritance of old. 

Surer to prosper than prosperity 

Could have assured us ; and by what best way, 40 

Whether of open war or covert guile. 

We now debate. Who can advise may speak." 

He ceased ; and next him Moloch,* sceptred king, 
Stood up — the strongest and the fiercest Spirit 
That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair. 
His trust was with the Eternal to be deemed 
Equal in strength, and rather than be less 
Cared not to be at all ; with that care lost 
Went all his fear : of God, or Hell, or worse, 
He recked not, and these words thereafter spake : — 50 

" My sentence is for open war. Of wiles. 
More unexpert, I boast not : them let those 

* I. 392. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 129 

Contrive who need, or when they need ; not now. 

For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest — 

Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 

The signal to ascend — sit lingering here. 

Heaven's fugitives, and for their dvvelhng-place 

Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame. 

The prison of His tyranny who reigns 

By our delay? No! let us rather choose, 60 

Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once 

O'er Heaven's high towers to force resistless way, 

Turning our tortures into horrid arms 

Against the Torturer ; when, to meet the noise 

Of his almighty engine,* he shall hear 

Infernal thunder, and, for lightning, see 

Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 

Among his Angels, and his throne itself 

Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 

His own invented torments. But perhaps 70 

The way seems diflicult, and steep to scale 

With upright wing against a higher foe ! 

Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 

Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 

That in our proper motion we ascend 

Up to our native seat ; descent and fall 

To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 

When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear 

Insulting, and pursued us through the Deep, 

With what compulsion and laborious flight 80 

We sunk thus low ? The ascent is easy, then ; 

* VI. 749 + . 



I30 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

The event is feared ! Should we again provoke 

Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 

To our destruction, if there be in Hell 

Fear to be worse destroyed ! What can be worse 

Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned 

In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; 

Where pain of unextinguishable fire 

Must exercise us without hope of end 

The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 90 

Inexorably, and the torturing hour. 

Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus. 

We should be quite abolished, and expire. 

What fear we then ? what doubt we to incense 

His utmost ire ? which, to the highth enraged. 

Will either quite consume us, and reduce 

To nothing this essential ' — happier far 

Than miserable to have eternal being ! — 

Or, if our substance be indeed divine, 

And cannot cease to be,* we are at worst 100 

On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel 

Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven, 

And with perpetual inroads to alarm. 

Though inaccessible, his fatal throne : 

Which, if not victory, is yet revenge." 

He ended frowning, and his look denounced 
Desperate revenge, and batde dangerous 
To less than gods. On the other side up rose 
Belial,t in act more graceful and humane. 
A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seemed no 

1 5. * VI. 853+. tI-49o+- 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 131 

For dignity composed, and high exploit. 
But all was false and hollow ; though his tongue 
Dropt manna,^ and could make the worse appear 
The better reason, to perplex and dash 
Maturest counsels : for his thoughts were low — 
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds 
Timorous and slothful. Yet he pleased the ear, 
And with persuasive accent thus began : — 

" I should be much for open war, O Peers, 
As not behind in hate, if what was urged 120 

Main reason to persuade immediate war 
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast 
Ominous conjecture on the whole success ; 
When he who most excels in fact of arms, 
In what he counsels and in what excels 
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair 
And utter dissolution, as the scope 
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 
First, what revenge ? The towers of Heaven are filled 
With armed watch, that render all access 130 

Impregnable : oft on the bordering Deep 
Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing 
Scout far and wide into the realm of Night, 
Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way 
By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise 
With blackest insurrection to confound 
Heaven's purest light, yet our great Enemy, 
All incorruptible, would on his throne 
Sit unpolluted, and the ethereal ^ mould, 



87. 



132 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Incapable of stain, would soon expel 140 

Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, 

Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope 

Is flat despair : we must exasperate 

The Almighty Victor to spend all his rage ; 

And that must end us ; that must be our cure — 

To be no more. Sad cure ! for who would lose. 

Though full of pain, this intellectual being, 

Those thoughts that wander through eternity. 

To perish rather, swallowed up and lost 

In the wide womb of uncreated Night, 150 

Devoid of sense and motion ? And who knows. 

Let this be good, whether our angry Foe 

Can give it, or will ever? How he can 

Is doubtful; that he never will is sure. 

Will He, so wise, let loose at once his ire. 

Belike through impotence or unaware. 

To give his enemies their wish, and end 

Them in his anger whom his anger saves 

To punish endless ? ' Wherefore cease we, then ? ' 

Say they who counsel war ; ' we are decreed, 160 

Reserved, and destined to eternal woe ; 

Whatever doing, what can we suffer more. 

What can we suffer worse ? ' Is this, then, worst — 

Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? 

What when we fled amain, pursued and strook 

With Heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought 

The Deep to shelter us? This Hell then seemed 

A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay 

Chained on the burning lake ? That sure was worse. 

What if the breath that kindled those grim fires, 170 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 133 

Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage, 

And plunge us in the flames ; or from above 

Should intermitted vengeance arm again 

His red right hand to plague us? What if all 

Her stores were opened, and this firmament 

Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire. 

Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall 

One day upon our heads ; while we perhaps, 

Designing or exhorting glorious war. 

Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled, 180 

Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey 

Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk 

Under yon boiUng ocean, wrapt in chains, 

There to converse with everlasting groans, 

Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved. 

Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse. 

War, therefore, open or concealed, alike 

My voice dissuades ; for what can force or guile 

With Him, or who deceive His mind, whose eye 

Views all things at one view? He from Heaven's highth 

All these our motions vain sees and derides, 191 

Not more almighty to resist our might 

Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. 

Shall we, then, live thus vile — the race of Heaven 

Thus trampled, thus expelled, to suffer here 

Chains and these torments ? Better these than worse, 

By my advice ; since fate inevitable 

Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, 

The Victor's will. To suffer, as to do. 

Our strength is equal ; nor the law unjust 200 

That so ordains. This was at first resolved, 



134 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

If we were wise, against so great a foe 

Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. 

I laugh when those who at the spear are bold 

And venturous, if that fail them, shrink, and fear 

What yet they know must follow — to endure 

Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain. 

The sentence of their conqueror. This is now 

Our doom ; which if we can sustain and bear, 

Our Supreme Foe in time may much remit 210 

His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed, 

Not mind us not offending, satisfied 

With what is punished ; whence these raging fires 

Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. 

Our purer essence ^ then will overcome 

Their noxious vapour ; or, inured, not feel ; 

Or, changed at length, and to the place conformed 

In temper and in nature, will receive 

Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain ; 

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light ; 220 

Besides what hope the never-ending flight 

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change 

Worth waiting — since our present lot appears 

For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, 

If we procure not to oursekes more woe." 

Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason's garb, 
Counselled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth, 
Not peace ; and after him thus Mammon * spake : — 

" Either to disenthrone the King of Heaven 
We war, if war be best, or to regain 230 

1 5. * I. 678. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 135 

Our own right lost. Him to unthrone we then 

May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield 

To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife. 

The former, vain to hope, argues as vain 

The latter ; for what place can be for us 

Within Heaven's bound, unless Heaven's Lord Supreme 

We overpower? Suppose he should relent. 

And publish grace to all, on promise made 

Of new subjection ; with what eyes could we 

Stand in his presence humble, and receive 240 

Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne 

With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing 

Forced Halleluiahs, while he lordly sits 

Our envied sovran, and his altar breathes 

Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers. 

Our servile offerings ? ^ This must be our task 

In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome 

Eternity so spent in worship paid 

To whom we hate ! Let us not then pursue. 

By force impossible, by leave obtained 250 

Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state 

Of splendid vassalage ; but rather seek 

Our own good from ourselves, and from our own 

Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, 

Free and to none accountable, preferring 

Hard liberty before the easy yoke 

Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear 

Then most conspicuous when great things of small. 

Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse, 

^ 72, 73' 



136 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

We can create, and in what place soe'er 260 

Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain 

Through labour and endurance. This deep world 

Of darkness do we dread ? How oft amidst 

Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven's all-ruling Sire 

Choose to reside, his glory unobscured, 

And with the majesty of darkness round 

Covers his throne, from whence deep thunders roar, 

Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell ! ^ 

As He our darkness, cannot we His light 

Imitate when we please ? This desert soil 270 

Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold ; 

Nor want we skill or art from whence to raise 

Magnificence ; and what can Heaven show more ? 

Our torments also may, in length of time. 

Become our elements,' these piercing fires 

As soft as now severe, our temper changed 

Into their temper ; which must needs remove 

The sensible of pain. All things invite 

To peaceful counsels, and the settled state 

Of order, how in safety best we may 280 

Compose our present evils, with regard 

Of what we are and where, dismissing quite 

All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise." 

He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled 
The assembly as when hollow rocks retain 
The sound of blustering winds, which all night long 
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull 
Seafaring men o'erwatched, whose bark by chance, 



^73. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 137 

Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay 

After the tempest. Such applause was heard 290 

As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased. 

Advising peace : for such another field 

They dreaded worse than Hell ; so much the fear 

Of thunder and the sword of Michael * 

Wrought still within them ; and no less desire 

To found this nether empire, which might rise, 

By policy and long process of time, 

In emulation opposite to Heaven. 

Which when Beelzebub perceived — than whom, 

Satan except, none higher sat — with grave 300 

Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed 

A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven 

Deliberation sat, and public care ; 

And princely counsel in his face yet shone. 

Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood, 

With Atlantean ^ shoulders^ fit to bear 

The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look 

Drew audience and attention still as night 

Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake : — 

" Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven, 310 
Ethereal Virtues ! or these titles now 
Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called 
Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote 
Inclines — here to continue, and build up here 
A growing empire ; doubtless ! while we dream, 
And know not that the King of Heaven hath doomed 
This place our dungeon — not our safe retreat 

1 61. * VI. 250. 



138 PARADISE LOST. [Book 11. 

Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt 

From Heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league 

Banded against his throne, but to remain 320 

In strictest bondage, though thus far removed. 

Under the inevitable curb, reserved 

His captive multitude. For He, be sure, 

In highth or depth, still first and last will reign 

Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part 

By our revolt, but over Hell extend 

His empire, and with iron sceptre rule 

Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven. 

What sit we then projecting peace and war? 

War hath determined us and foiled with loss 330 

Irreparable ; terms of peace yet none 

Voutsafed or sought ; for what peace will be given 

To us enslaved, but custody severe. 

And stripes and arbitrary punishment 

Inflicted? and what peace can we return. 

But, to our power, hostility and hate, 

Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow. 

Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least 

May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice 

In doing what we most in suffering feel ? 340 

Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need 

With dangerous expedition to invade 

Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege. 

Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find 

Some easier enterprise? There is a place 

(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven 

Err not)* — another World, the happy seat 

♦ I. 650. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 139 

Of some new race, called Man, about this time 

To be created like to us, though less 

In power and excellence, but favoured more 350 

Of Him who rules above ; so was His will 

Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath 

That shook Heaven's whole circumference confirmed. 

Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn 

What creatures there inhabit, of what mould 

Or substance, how endued, and what their power 

And where their weakness : how attempted best, 

By force or subtlety. Though Heaven be shut, 

And Heaven's high Arbitrator sit secure 

In his own strength, this place may lie exposed, 360 

The utmost border of his kingdom, left 

To their defence who hold it : here, perhaps. 

Some advantageous act may be achieved 

By sudden onset — either with Hell-fire 

To waste his whole creation, or possess 

All as our own, and drive, as we are driven, 

The puny habitants ; or, if not drive, 

Seduce them to our party, that their God 

May prove their foe, and with repenting hand 

Abolish his own works. This would surpass 370 

Common revenge, and interrupt His joy 

In our confusion, and our joy upraise 

In His disturbance ; when his darling sons. 

Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse 

Their frail original, and faded bhss — 

Faded so soon ! Advise if this be worth 

Attempting, or to sit in darkness here 

Hatching vain empires." Thus Beelzebub 



HO PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Pleaded his devilish counsel — first devised 

By Satan, and in part proposed : for whence, 380 

But from the author of all ill, could spring 

So deep a malice, to confound the race 

Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell 

To mingle and involve, done all to spite 

The great Creator? But their spite still serves 

His glory to augment. The bold design 

Pleased highly those Infernal States, and joy 

Sparkled in all their eyes : with full assent 

They vote : whereat his speech he thus renews : — 

" Well have ye judged, well ended long debate, 390 

Synod of Gods, and, like to what ye are. 

Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep 

Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate, 

Nearer our ancient seat — perhaps in view 

Of those bright confines, whence, with neighbouring arms. 

And opportune excursion, we may chance 

Re-enter Heaven ; or else in some mild zone 

Dwell, not unvisited of Heaven's fair light. 

Secure, and at the brightening orient beam 

Purge off this gloom : the soft delicious air,* 400 

To heal the scar of these corrosive fires, 

Shall breathe her balm. But, first, whom shall we send 

In search of this new World ? whom shall we find 

Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet 

The dark, unbottomed, infinite Abyss, 

And through the palpable obscure find out 

His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight, 

♦ II. 842. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 141 

Upborne with indefatigable wings 

Over the vast Abrupt, ere he arrive 

The happy Isle ? What strength, what art, can then 410 

Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 

Through the strict senteries and stations thick 

Of Angels watching round? Here he had need 

All circumspection : and we now no less 

Choice in our suffrage ; for on whom we send 

The weight of all, and our last hope, relies." 

This said, he sat ; and expectation held 
His look suspense, awaiting who appeared 
To second, or oppose, or undertake 
The perilous attempt. But all sat mute, 420 

Pondering the danger with deep thoughts ; and each 
In other's countenance read his own dismay, 
Astonished. None among the choice and prime 
Of those Heaven-warring champions could be found 
So hardy as to proffer or accept. 
Alone, the dreadful voyage ; till, at last, 
Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised 
Above his fellows, with monarchal pride 
Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake : — 

" O Progeny of Heaven ! Empyreal Thrones ! 430 

With reason hath deep silence and demur 
Seized us, though undismayed. Long is the way 
And hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light. 
Our prison strong, this huge convex of fire. 
Outrageous to devour, immures us round* 
Ninefold ; and gates of burning adamant, 

* II. 644 + . 



142 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Barred over us, prohibit all egress. 

These passed, if any pass, the void profound 

Of unessential Night receives him next, 

Wide-gaping, and with utter loss of being 440 

Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf.* 

If thence he scape, into whatever world. 

Or unknown region, what remains him less 

Than unknown dangers, and as hard escape ? 

But I should ill become this throne, O Peers, 

And this imperial sovranty, adorned 

With splendour, armed with power, if aught proposed 

And judged of public moment in the shape 

Of difficulty or danger, could deter 

Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume 450 

These royalties, and not refuse to reign. 

Refusing to accept as great a share 

Of hazard as of honour, due alike 

To him who reigns, and so much to him due 

Of hazard more as he above the rest 

High honoured sits ? Go, therefore, mighty Powers, 

Terror of Heaven, though fallen ; intend at home. 

While here shall be our home, what best may ease 

The present misery, and render Hell 

More tolerable ; if there be cure or charm 460 

To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain 

Of this ill mansion : intermit no watch 

Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad 

Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek 

Deliverance for us all. This enterprise 

*1I. 912+. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 143 

None shall partake with me." Thus saying, rose 

The Monarch, and prevented all reply ; 

Prudent lest, from his resolution raised, 

Others among the chief might offer now, 

Certain to be refused, what erst they feared, 470 

And, so refused, might in opinion stand 

His rivals, winning cheap the high repute 

Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they 

Dreaded not more the adventure than his voice 

Forbidding ; and at once with him they rose. 

Their rising all at once was as the sound 

Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend 

With awful reverence prone, and as a God 

Extol him equal to the Highest in Heaven. 

Nor failed they to express how much they praised 480 

That for the general safety he despised 

His own : for neither do the Spirits damned 

Lose all their virtue ; lest bad men should boast 

Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, 

Or close ambition varnished o'er with zeal. 

Thus they their doubtful consultations dark 
Ended, rejoicing in their matchless Chief: 
As, when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds 
Ascending, while the North-wind sleeps, o'erspread 
Heaven's cheerful face, the lowering element ' 490 

Scowls o'er the darkened landscape snow or shower, 
If chance the radiant sun, with farewell sweet, 
Extend his evening beam, the fields revive, 
The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds 



144 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. 

O shame to men ! Devil with devil damned 

Firm concord holds ; men only disagree 

Of creatures rational, though under hope ^ 

Of heavenly grace, and, God proclaiming peace, 

Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife 500 

Among themselves, and levy cruel wars 

Wasting the earth, each other to destroy : 

As if (which might induce us to accord) 

Man had not hellish foes enow besides, 

That day and night for his destruction wait ! 

The Stygian council thus dissolved ; and forth 
In order came the grand Infernal Peers : 
Midst came their mighty Paramount, and seemed 
Alone the antagonist of Heaven, nor less 
Than Hell's dread Emperor, with pomp supreme, 510 
And god-like imitated state : him round 
A globe of fiery Seraphim enclosed 
With bright emblazonry, and horrent arms. 
Then of their session ended they bid cry 
With trumpet's regal sound the great result : 
Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim 
Put to their mouths the sounding alchemy. 
By harald's voice explained ; the hollow Abyss 
Heard far and wide, and all the host of Hell 
With deafening shout returned them loud acclaim. 520 
Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat raised 
By false presumptuous hope, the ranged Powers 
Disband ; and, wandering, each his several way 
Pursues, as inclination or sad choice 
Leads him perplexed, where he may likeliest find 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 145 

Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain 

The irksome hours, till his great Chief return. 

Part on the plain, or in the air sublime. 

Upon the wing or in swift race contend, 

As at the Olympian ^ games or Pythian ^ fields ; 530 

Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal 

With rapid wheels, or fronted brigads form : 

As when, to warn proud cities, war appears 

Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush 

To battle in the clouds ; ^ before each van 

Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears, 

Till thickest legions close ; with feats of arms 

From either end of heaven the welkin burns. 

Others, with vast Typhoean ^ rage, more fell, 

Rend up both rocks and hills,* and ride the air 540 

In whirlwind ; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar : — 

As when Alcides, from CEchalia crowned 

With conquest, felt the envenomed robe,^ and tore 

Through pain up by the roots Thessahan pines, 

And Lichas from the top of QEta threw 

Into the Euboic sea. Others, more mild, 

Retreated in a silent valley, sing 

With notes angelical to many a harp 

Their own heroic deeds, and hapless fall 

By doom of battle, and complain that Fate 550 

Free Virtue should enthrall to Force or Chance. 

Their song was partial ; but the harmony 

(What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?) 

Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment 

134. 239. 3 15. 432. 663. *VL 643+. 



146 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet 

(For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense) 

Others apart sat on a hill retired, 

In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high 

Of Providence, Foreknowledge,^ Will, and Fate — 

Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute — 560 

And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. 

Of good and evil much they argued then. 

Of happiness and final misery. 

Passion and apathy,- and glory and shame : 

Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy ! — 

Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charm 

Pain for a while or anguish, and excite 

Fallacious hope, or arm the obdured breast 

With stubborn patience as with triple steel. 

Another part, in squadrons and gross bands 570 

On bold adventure to discover wide 

That dismal world, if any clime perhaps 

Might yield them easier habitation, bend 

Four ways their flying march, along the banks 

Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge 

Into the burning lake their baleful streams — 

Abhorred Styx,^ the flood of deadly hate ; 

Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep ; 

Cocytus, named of lamentation loud 

Heard on the rueful stream ; fierce Phlegeton, 580 

Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. 

Far off from these, a slow and silent stream, 

Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls 

1 97, 98. 2 See Glossary — " Stoic." ^ 23. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 147 

Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks 

Forthwith his former state and being forgets — 

Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. 

Beyond this flood a frozen continent 

Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms 

Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land 

Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems 590 

Of ancient pile ; all else deep snow and ice, 

A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog ^ 

Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old, 

Where armies whole have sunk : the parching air 

Burns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire. 

Thither, by harpy --footed Furies ^ haled, 

At certain revolutions all the damned 

Are brought ; and feel by turns the bitter change 

Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce. 

From beds of raging fire to starve in ice 600 

Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine 

Immovable, infixed, and frozen round 

Periods of time, — thence hurried back to fire. 

They ferry over this Lethean sound 

Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment, 

And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reach 

The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose 

In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe. 

All in one moment, and so near the brink ; 

But Fate withstands, and, to oppose the attempt, 610 

Medusa ^ with Gorgonian terror guards 

The ford, and of itself the water flies 



i See map, p. 88. ^ 32. 



148 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

All taste of living wight, as once it fled 

The lip of Tantalus.^ Thus roving on 

In confused march forlorn, the adventrous bands. 

With shuddering horror pale, and eyes aghast, 

Viewed first their lamentable lot, and found 

No rest. Through many a dark and dreary vale 

They passed, and many a region dolorous, 

O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, 620 

Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death — 

A universe of death, which God by curse 

Created evil, for evil only good ; 

Where all life dies, death lives, and Nature breeds. 

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things. 

Abominable, inutterable, and worse 

Than fables yet have feigned or fear conceived, 

Gorgons,^ and Hydras, and Chimseras dire. 

Meanwhile the Adversary of God and Man, 
Satan, with thoughts inflamed of highest design, 630 

Puts on swift wings, and toward the gates of Hell 
Explores his sohtary flight : sometimes 
He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left ; 
Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars 
Up to the fiery concave towering high. 
As when far off at sea a fleet descried 
Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds ^ 
Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles 
Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring 
Their spicy drugs ; they on the trading flood, , 640 

Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape, 

1 24. 2^2. 3 II, 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 149 

Ply stemming nightly toward the pole : so seemed 

Far off the flying Fiend. At last appear 

Hell-bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof, 

And thrice threefold the gates ; three folds were brass, 

Three iron, three of adamantine rock, 

Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire, 

Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat 

On either side a formidable Shape. 

The one seemed woman to the waist, and fair, 650 

But ended foul in many a scaly fold. 

Voluminous and vast — a serpent armed 

With mortal sting. About her middle round 

A cry of Hell-hounds never-ceasing barked 

With wide Cerberean ^ mouths full loud, and rung 

A hideous peal ; yet, when they list, would creep. 

If aught disturbed their noise, into her womb, 

And kennel there ; yet there still barked and howled 

Within unseen. Far less abhorred than these 

Vexed Scylla, bathing in the sea that parts 660 

Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore ; ^ 

Nor ugher follow the night-hag,^ when, called 

In secret, riding through the air she comes, 

Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance 

With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon * 

Eclipses at their charms. The other Shape — 

If shape it might be called that shape had none 

Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb ; 

Or substance might be called that shadow seemed. 

For each seemed either — black it stood as Night, 670 

1 23. 2 69. 3 18, 19. * I. 784. 



ISO PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Fierce as ten Furies,^ terrible as Hell, 

And shook a dreadful dart : what seemed his head 

The likeness of a kingly crown had on. 

Satan was now at hand, and from his seat 

The monster moving onward came as fast 

With horrid strides ; Hell trembled as he strode. 

The undaunted Fiend what this might be admired — 

Admired, not feared (God and his Son except, 

Created thing naught valued he nor shunned). 

And with disdainful look thus first began : — 680 

" Whence and what art thou, execrable Shape, 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass, 
That be assured, without leave asked of thee. 
Retire ; or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, 
Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heaven." 

To whom the GobHn, full of wrath, repHed : — 
"Art thou that Traitor- Angel, art thou he. 
Who first broke peace in Heaven and faith, till then 690 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of Heaven's sons, 
Conjured against the Highest — for which both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemned 
To waste eternal days in woe and pain ? 
And reckon'st thou thyself with Spirits of Heaven, 
Hell-doomed, and breath'st defiance here and scorn, 
Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more. 
Thy king and lord ! Back to thy punishment, 



I52. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 151 

False fugitive ; and to thy speed add wings, • 700 

Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 

Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart 

Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before." 

So spake the grisly Terror, and in shape, 
So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold 
More dreadful and deform. On the other side. 
Incensed with indignation,* Satan stood 
Unterrified, and like a comet burned. 
That fires the length of Ophiuchus ^ huge 
In the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair 710 

Shakes pestilence and war.^ Each at the head 
Levelled his deadly aim ; their fatal hands 
No second stroke intend ; and such a frown 
Each cast at the other as when two black clouds. 
With heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on 
Over the Caspian,^ — then stand front to front 
Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow 
To join their dark encounter in mid-air. 
So frowned the mighty combatants that Hell 
Grew darker at their frown ; so matched they stood ; 720 
For never but once more was either like 
To meet so great a foe. And now great deeds 
Had been achieved, whereof all Hell had rung, 
Had not the snaky Sorceress, that sat 
'Fast by Hell-gate and kept the fatal key. 
Risen, and with hideous outcry rushed between. 
" O father, what intends thy hand," she cried, 
" Against thy only son ? What fury, O son, 

1 12. 215. 352. * VI. 310-^. 



152 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart 

Against thy father's head ? And knovv'st for whom ? 730 

For Him who sits above, and laughs the while 

At thee, ordained his drudge to execute 

What'er his wrath, which He calls justice, bids — 

His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both ! " 

She spake, and at her words the helhsh Pest 
Forbore : then these to her Satan returned : — 

" So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange 
Thou interposest, that my sudden hand. 
Prevented, spares to tell thee yet by deeds 
What it intends, till first I know of thee 740 

What thing thou art, thus double-formed, and why, 
In this infernal vale first met, thou call'st 
Me father, and that phantasm call'st my son. 
I know thee not, nor ever saw till now 
Sight more detestable than him and thee." 

To whom thus the Portress of Hell-gate replied : — 
" Hast thou forgot me, then ; and do I seem 
Now in thine eye so foul? — once deemed so fair 
In Heaven, when at the assembly, and in sight 
Of all the Seraphim with thee combined 750 

In bold conspiracy against Heaven's King, 
All on a sudden miserable pain 
Surprised thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum 
In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast 
Threw forth, till on the left side opening wide, 
Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright, 
Then shining heavenly fair, a goddess armed. 
Out of thy head I sprung. Amazement seized 
All the host of Heaven ; back they recoiled afraid 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 153 

At first, and called me Siti, and for a sign 760 

Portentous held me ; but, familiar grown, 

I pleased, and with attractive graces won 

The most averse — thee chiefly, who, full oft 

Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing, 

Becam'st enamoured ; and such joy thou took'st 

With me in secret that my womb conceived 

A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose, 

And fields were fought in Heaven : wherein remained 

(For what could else?) to our Almighty Foe 

Clear victory ; to our part loss and rout 770 

Through all the Empyrean.^ Down they fell, 

Driven headlong from the pitch of Heaven, down 

Into this Deep ; and in the general fall 

I also : at which time this powerful key 

Into my hands was given, with charge to keep 

These gates for ever shut, which none can pass 

Without my opening. Pensive here I sat 

Alone ; but long I sat not, till my womb, 

Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown. 

Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. 780 

At last this odious offspring whom thou seest. 

Thine own begotten, breaking violent way, 

Tore through my entrails, that, with fear and pain 

Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew 

Transformed : but he my inbred enemy 

Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart. 

Made to destroy. I fled, and cried out Death / 

Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed 



^5- 



154 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

From all her caves, and back resounded Death ! 

I fled ; but he pursued (though more, it seems, 790 

Inflamed with lust than rage), and, swifter far, 

Me overtook, his mother, all dismayed. 

And, in embraces forcible and foul 

Engendering with me, of that rape begot 

These yelhng monsters, that with ceaseless cry 

Surround me, as thou savv'st — hourly conceived 

And hourly born, with sorrow infinite 

To me : for, when they list, into the womb 

That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw 

My bowels, their repast ; then, bursting forth 800 

Afresh, with conscious terrors vex me round. 

That rest or intermission none I find. 

Before mine eyes in opposition sits 

Grim Death, my son and foe, who sets them on, 

And me, his parent, would full soon devour 

For want of other prey, but that he knows 

His end with mine involved, and knows that I 

Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane. 

Whenever that shall be : so Fate pronounced. 

But thou, O father, I forewarn thee, shun 810 

His deadly arrow ; neither vainly hope 

To be invulnerable in those bright arms. 

Though tempered heavenly : for that mortal dint. 

Save He who reigns above, none can resist." 

She finished ; and the subde Fiend his lore 
Soon learned, now milder, and thus answered smooth : — 

" Dear daughter — since thou claim'st me for thy sire, 
And my fair son here show'st me, the dear pledge 
Of dalliance had with thee in Heaven, and joys 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 155 

Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change 820 

Befallen us unforeseen, unthought-of — know, 

I come no enemy, but to set free 

From out this dark and dismal house of pain 

Both him and thee, and all the Heavenly host 

Of Spirits that, in our just pretences armed. 

Fell with us from on high. From them I go 

This uncouth errand sole, and one for all 

Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread 

The unfounded Deep, and through the void immense 

To search, with wandering quest, a place foretold 830 

Should be — and, by concurring signs, ere now 

Created vast and round — a place of bliss 

In the purHeus of Heaven ; and therein placed 

A race of upstart creatures, to supply 

Perhaps our vacant room, though more removed. 

Lest Heaven, surcharged with potent multitude. 

Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or aught 

Than this more secret, now designed, I haste 

To know ; and, this once known, shall soon return. 

And bring ye to the place where thou and Death 840 

Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen 

Wing silently the buxom air, embalmed * 

With odours. There ye shall be fed and filled 

Immeasurably ; all things shall be your prey." 

He ceased ; for both seemed highly pleased, and Death 
Grinned horrible a ghastly smile, to hear 
His famine should be filled, and blessed his maw 
Destined to that good hour. No less rejoiced 

* IT. 400 + . 



156 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

His mother bad, and thus bespake her sire : — 

" The key of this infernal Pit, by due 850 

And by command of Heaven's all-powerful King, 
I keep, by Him forbidden to unlock 
These adamantine gates ; against all force 
Death ready stands to interpose his dart, 
Fearless to be o'ermatched by hving might. 
But what owe I to His commands above, 
Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down 
Into this gloom of Tartarus ^ profound, 
To sit in hateful office here confined. 
Inhabitant of Heaven and heavenly-born — 860 

Here in perpetual agony and pain. 
With terrors and with clamours compassed round 
Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed ? 
Thou art my father, thou my author, thou 
My being gav'st me ; whom should I obey 
But thee ? whom follow ? Thou wilt bring me soon 
To that new world of light and bliss, among 
The gods who live at ease, where I shall reign 
At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems 
Thy daughter and thy darling, without end." 870 

Thus saying, from her side the fatal key, 
Sad instrument of all our woe, she took ; 
And, towards the gate rolling her bestial train, 
Forthwith the huge portculhs high up-drew, 
Which, but herself, not all the Stygian Powers 
Could once have moved ; then in the key-hole turns 
The intricate wards, and every bolt and bar 



22. 



Book II ] PARADISE LOST. 157 

Of massy iron or solid rock with ease 

Unfastens. On a sudden open fly,* 

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, 880 

The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 

Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook 

Of Erebus.^ She opened ; but to shut 

Excelled her power : the gates wide open stood, 

That with extended wings a bannered host. 

Under spread ensigns marching, might pass through 

With horse and chariots ranked in loose array ; 

So wide they stood, and like a furnace-mouth 

Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. 

Before their eyes in sudden view appear 890 

The secrets of the hoary Deep — a dark 

Illimitable ocean, without bound. 

Without dimension ; where length, breadth, and highth. 

And time, and place, are lost ; where eldest Night 

And Chaos, ancestors of Nature,- hold 

Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise 

Of endless wars, and by confusion stand. 

For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce. 

Strive here for mastery, and to battle bring 

Their embryon atoms : they around the flag 900 

Of each his faction, in their several clans. 

Light-armed or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow. 

Swam populous, unnumbered as the sands 

Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil. 

Levied to side with warring wings, and poise 

Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere 

1 22. 2 76^ 4, * vn. 205 -H. 



158 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

He rules a moment : Chaos umpire sits, 

And by decision more embroils the fray 

By which he reigns : next him, high arbiter, 

Chance governs all. Into this wild Abyss, 910 

The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave, 

Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire,* 

But all these in their pregnant causes mixed 

Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, 

Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain 

His dark materials to create more worlds — 

Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend 

Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while,t 

Pondering his voyage ; for no narrow frith 

He had to cross. Nor was his ear less pealed 920 

With noises loud and ruinous (to compare 

Great things with small) than when Bellona storms 

With all her battering engines, bent to rase 

Some capital city ; or less than if this frame ^ 

Of heaven were faUing, and these elements^ 

In mutiny had from her axle torn 

The steadfast Earth. At last his sail-broad vans 

He spreads for flight, and, in the surging smoke 

Uplifted, spurns the ground ; thence many a league. 

As in a cloudy chair, ascending rides 930 

Audacious ; but, that seat soon failing, meets 

A vast vacuity. All unawares. 

Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb-down he drops 

Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour 

Down had been falling, had not, by ill chance, 

18. 24. ♦ III. 715. t VII. 210. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 159 

The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud, 

Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him 

As many miles aloft. That fury stayed — 

Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea, 

Nor good dry land — nigh foundered, on he fares, 940 

Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, 

Half flying ; behoves him now both oar and sail. 

As when a gryphon through the wilderness 

With winged course, o'er hill or moory dale, 

Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth 

Had from his wakeful custody purloined 

The guarded gold ; ^ so eagerly the Fiend 

O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, 

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way. 

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies. 950 

At length a universal hubbub wild 

Of stunning sounds, and voices all confused, 

Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear 

With loudest vehemence. Thither he phes 

Undaunted, to meet there whatever Power 

Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss 

Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask 

Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies 

Bordering on light ; when straight behold the throne 

Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread 960 

Wide on the wasteful Deep ! With him enthroned 

Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things. 

The consort of his reign ; and by them stood 

Orcus - and Ades,^ and the dreaded name 

' 56. ' 23. 



i6o PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Of Demogorgon ; ^ Rumour next, and Chance, 
And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroiled. 
And Discord with a thousand various mouths. 

To whom Satan, turning boldly, thus : — "Ye Powers 
And Spirits of this nethermost Abyss, 
Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy 970 

With purpose to explore or to disturb 
The secrets of your realm ; but, by constraint 
Wandering this darksome desert, as my way 
Lies through your spacious empire up to light. 
Alone and without guide, half lost, I seek 
What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds 
Confine with Heaven ; or, if some other place, 
From your dominion won, the Ethereal King 
Possesses lately, thither to arrive 

I travel this profound. Direct my course : 980 

Directed, no mean recompense it brings 
To your behoof, if I that region lost. 
All usurpation thence expelled, reduce 
To her original darkness and your sway 
(Which is my present journey), and once more 
Erect the standard there of ancient Night. 
Yours be the advantage all, mine the revenge ! " 

Thus Satan ; and him thus the Anarch old, 
With faltering speech and visage incomposed, 
Answered : — "I know thee, stranger, who thou art — 990 
That mighty leading Angel, who of late 
Made head against Heaven's King,* though over- 
thrown. 

1 Glossary. * I. 131- 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. i6i 

1 saw and heard ; for such a numerous host 

Fled not in silence through the frighted Deep,* 

With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, 

Confusion worse confounded ; and Heaven gates 

Poured out by milhons her victorious bands, 

Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here 

Keep residence ; if all I can will serve 

That little which is left so to defend, looo 

Encroached on still through our intestine broils 

Weakening the sceptre of old Night : first, Hell, 

Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath ; 

Now lately heaven and earth, another world 

Hung o'er my realm, f linked in a golden chain 

To that side Heaven from whence your legions fell ! 

If that way be your walk, you have not far ; 

So much the nearer danger. Go, and speed ; 

Havoc, and spoil, and ruin, are my gain." 

He ceased ; and Satan staid not to reply, loio 

But, glad that now his sea should find a shore, 
With fresh alacrity and force renewed 
Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire. 
Into the wild expanse, and through the shock 
Of fighting elements,^ on all sides round 
Environed, wins his way ; harder beset 
And more endangered than when Argo ^ passed 
Through Bosporus betwixt the justhng rocks, 
Or when Ulysses ^ on the larboard shunned 
Charybdis, and by the other Whirlpool steered. 1020 

So he with difficulty and labour hard 

I4. ^57,58. ^65,69. * VI. 871. 111-1051. 



i62 PARADISE LOST. [Book II. 

Moved on. With difficulty and labour he ; 

But, he once passed, soon after, when Man fell. 

Strange alteration ! Sin and Death amain, 

Following his track (such was the will of Heaven) 

Paved after him a broad and beaten way 

Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling gulf 

Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length, 

From Hell continued, reaching the utmost Orb \ 

Of this frail World ; by which the Spirits perverse 1030 

With easy intercourse pass to and fro 

To tempt or punish mortals, except whom 

God and good Angels guard by special grace. 

But now at last the sacred influence 
Of hght appears, and from the walls of Heaven 
Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night 
A glimmering dawn. Here Nature first begins 
Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire. 
As from her outmost works, a broken foe. 
With tumult less and with less hostile din ; 1040 

That Satan with less toil, and now with ease, 
Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light. 
And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds 
Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn ; 
Or in the emptier waste, resembling air, 
Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold 
Far off the empyreal Heaven, extended wide 
In circuit, undetermined square or round, 
With opal towers and battlements adorned 
Of living sapphire, once his native seat, 1050 

1 8-10. 



Book II.] PARADISE LOST. 163 

And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain,* 
This pendent World, in bigness as a star 
Of smallest magnitude close by the moon. 
Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge. 
Accurst, and in a cursed hour, he hies. 

* II. 1005. 



PARADISE LOST. 

BOOK III. 
(1-76, 416-742.) 



THE ARGUMENT. 

God, sitting on his throne, sees Satan flying towards this World, 
then newly created ; shows him to the Son, who sat at his right hand ; 
foretells the success of Satan in perverting mankind ; clears his own 
justice and wisdom from all imputation, having created Man free, and 
able enough to have withstood his Tempter ; yet declares his purpose 
of grace towards him, in regard he fell not of his own malice, as did 
Satan, but by him seduced. The Son of God renders praises to his 
Father for the manifestation of his gracious purpose towards Man : but 
God again declares that grace cannot be extended towards Man with- 
out the satisfaction of Divine Justice ; Man hath offended the majesty 
of God by aspiring to Godhead, and therefore, with all his progeny 
devoted to death, must die, unless some one can be found sufficient to 
answer for his offence, and undergo his punishment. The Son of God 
freely offers himself a ransom for Man : the Father accepts him, ordains 
his incarnation, pronounces his exaltation above all names in Heaven 
and Earth ; commands all the Angels to adore him. They obey, and, 
hymning to their harps in full quire, celebrate the Father and the Son. 
Meanwhile Satan alights upon the bare convex of this World's outer- 
most orb ; where wandering he first finds a place since called the Limbo 
of Vanity ; what persons and things fly up thither : thence comes to the 
gate of Heaven, described ascending by stairs, and the waters above 
the firmament that flow about it. His passage thence to the orb of the 
Sun : he finds there Uriel, the regent of that orb, but first changes him- 
self into the shape of a meaner Angel, and, pretending a zealous desire 
to behold the new Creation, and Man whom God had placed here, 
inquires of him the place of his habitation, and is directed : Alights 
first on Mount Niphates. 

1 66 



Book III.] PARADISE LOST. 167 



BOOK III. 

(1-76, 416-742.) 

Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born ! ^ 

Or of the Eternal coeternal beam 

May I express thee unblamed? since God is hght. 

And never but in unapproached light 

Dwelt from eternity — dwelt then in thee, 

Bright effluence of bright essence increate ! 

Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, 

Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the Sun,* 

Before the Heavens, thou wert, and at the voice 

Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest 

The rising World of waters dark and deep, 

Won from the void and formless Infinite ! 

Thee I revisit now with bolder wing. 

Escaped the Stygian Pool, though long detained 

In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight. 

Through utter and through middle Darkness borne, 

With other notes than to the Orphean - lyre 

I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, 

Taught by the Heavenly Muse f to venture down 

The dark descent, and up to re-ascend. 

Though hard and rare. Thee I revisit safe, 

And feel thy sovran vital lamp ; but thou 

Revisit'st not these eyes,^ that roll in vain 

1 77. 2^2. •'^ See Biographical Outline, 1653. 

* VII. 243+. tI-6. 



i68 PARADISE LOST. [Book III. 

To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn ; 

So thick a drop serene ^ hath quenched their orbs, 

Or dim suffusion ^ veiled. Yet not the more 

Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt 

Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,^ 

Smit with the love of sacred song ; but chief 

Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks * beneath, 30 

That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, 

Nightly I visit : nor sometimes forget 

Those other two equalled with me in fate, 

So were I equalled with them in renown, 

Blind Thamyris ^ and bhnd Maeonides,'^ 

And Tiresias ^ and Phineus,^ prophets old : 

Then feed on thoughts that voluntary move 

Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird 

Sings darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid. 

Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year 40 

Seasons return ; but not to me returns 

Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn. 

Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose. 

Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 

But cloud instead and ever-during dark 

Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men 

Cut off, and, for the book of knowledge fair, 

Presented with a universal blank 

Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, 

And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. 50 

So much the rather thou. Celestial Light, 

1 See Glossary — " Gutta serena." 2^6. ^ gee Glossary. 
* I. 10. 



Book III] PARADISE LOST. 169 

Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers 
Irradiate ; there plant eyes ; all mist from thence 
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell 
Of things invisible to mortal sight. 

Now had the Almighty Father from above. 
From the pure Empyrean where He sits 
High throned above all highth, bent down his eye, 
His own works and their works at once to view : 
About him all the Sanctities of Heaven 60 

Stood thick as stars, and from his sight received 
Beatitude past utterance ; on his right 
The radiant image of his glory sat, 
His only Son. On Earth he first beheld 
Our two first parents, yet the only two 
Of mankind, in the Happy Garden placed, 
Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love. 
Uninterrupted joy, unrivalled love. 
In blissful solitude. He then surveyed 
Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there 70 

Coasting the wall of Heaven on this side Night, 
In the dun air sublime, and ready now 
To stoop, with wearied wings and willing feet, 
On the bare outside of this World, that seemed 
Firm land imbosomed without firmament,^ 
Uncertain which, in ocean or in air.* 
***** **** 

[Here ensues a dialogue between God and his Son, regarding. 
Man's responsibility for the sin that it is foreseen he will commit, 
and the Son's offered atonement (see 97, 98). The angels hymn 
the praises of God and his Son for their mercy towards Man.] 

1 9. * II. 1045. 



I70 PARADISE LOST. [Book III. 

Thus they in Heaven, above the Starry Sphere, 
Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent. 
Meanwhile, upon the firm opacous globe 
Of this round World, whose first convex ^ divides 
The luminous inferior Orbs, enclosed 420 

From Chaos and the inroad of Darkness old, 
Satan alighted walks. A globe far off 
It seemed ; now seems a boundless continent, 
Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of Night 
Starless exposed, and ever-threatening storms 
Of Chaos blustering round, inclement sky, 
Save on that side which from the wall of Heaven, 
Though distant far, some small reflection gains 
Of glimmering air less vexed with tempest loud. 
Here walked the Fiend at large in spacious field. 430 

As when a vulture, on Imaus bred. 
Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds. 
Dislodging from a region scarce of prey. 
To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kids 
On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs 
Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams, 
But in his way lights on the barren plains 
Of Sericana,^ where Chineses drive 
With sails and wind their cany waggons light ; 
So, on this windy sea of land, the Fiend 440 

Walked up and down alone, bent on his prey : 
Alone, for other creature in this place, 
Living or lifeless, to be found was none ; — 
None yet ; but store hereafter from the Earth 

1 8-10. 2 56. 



Book III.] PARADISE LOST. 171 

Up hither like aerial vapors flew 

Of all things transitory and vain, when sin 

With vanity had filled the works of men — 

Both all things vain, and all who in vain tilings 

Built their fond hopes of glory or lasting fame. 

Or happiness in this or the other life. 450 

All who have their reward on earth, the fruits 

Of painful superstition and blind zeal. 

Naught seeking but the praise of men, here find 

Fit retribution, empty as their deeds; 

All the unaccomplished works of Nature's hand, 

Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mixed. 

Dissolved on Earth, fleet hither, and in vain. 

Till final dissolution, wander here — 

Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some have dreamed : 

Those argent fields more likely habitants, 460 

Translated Saints, or middle Spirits hold, 

Betwixt the angelical and human kind. 

Hither, of ill-joined sons and daughters born. 

First from the ancient world those Giants came. 

With many a vain exploit, though then renowned : 

The builders next of Babel ^ on the plain 

Of Sennaar, and still with vain design 

New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build : 

Others came single ; he who, to be deemed 

A god, leaped fondly into ^tna flames, 470 

Empedocles ; and he who, to enjoy 

Plato's Elysium,^ leaped into the sea, 

Cleombrotus ; and many more, too long, 

^ See Glossary, and 56. '^ 23. 



172 PARADISE LOST. [Book III. 

Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars, 

White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery. 

Here pilgrims roamed, that strayed so far to seek 

In Golgotha him dead who lives in Heaven ; 

And they who, to be sure of Paradise, 

Dying put on the weeds of Dominic, 

Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised. 480 

They pass the planets seven/ and pass the fixed. 

And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs 

The trepidation talked, and that first moved ; 

And now Saint Peter at Heaven's wicket^ seems 

To wait them with his keys, and now at foot 

Of Heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when, lo ! 

A violent cross wind from either coast 

Blows them transverse, ten thousand leagues awry, 

Into the devious air. Then might ye see 

Cowls, hoods, and habits, with their wearers, tost 490 

And fluttered into rags ; then reliques, beads. 

Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, 

The sport of winds : all these, upwhirled aloft, 

Fly o'er the backside of the World far off 

Into a Limbo large and broad, since called 

The Paradise of Fools ; to few unknown 

Long after, now unpeopled and untrod. 

All this dark globe the Fiend found as he passed ; 
And long he wandered, till at last a gleam 
Of dawning light turned thitherward in haste 500 

His travelled steps. Far distant he descries. 
Ascending by degrees magnificent 

1 8-12. 2 8^^ foot-note. 



Book III.] PARADISE LOST. 173 

Up to the wall of Heaven, a structure high ; 

At top whereof, but far more rich, appeared 

The work as of a kingly palace-gate. 

With frontispiece of diamond and gold 

Embellished ; thick with sparkling orient gems 

The portal shone, inimitable on Earth 

By model, or by shading pencil drawn. 

The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw 510 

Angels ascending and descending, bands 

Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled 

To Padan-Aram, in the field of Luz^ 

Dreaming by night under the open sky, 

And waking cried, '' This is the gate of Heaven." 

Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood 

There always, but drawn up to Heaven sometimes 

Viewless ; and underneath a bright sea flowed 

Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon 

Who after came from Earth saiUng arrived 520 

Wafted by Angels, or flew o'er the lake 

Rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds. 

The stairs were then let down, whether to dare 

The Fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate 

His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss : 

Direct against which opened from beneath. 

Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise, 

A passage down to the Earth — a passage wide ; 

Wider by far than that of after-times 

Over Mount Sion, and, though that were large, 530 

Over the Promised Land - to God so dear, 

1 82 and map, p. 87. "^81, 83. 



174 PARADISE LOST. [Book III. 

By which, to visit oft those happy tribes, 

On high behests his Angels to and fro 

Passed frequent, and his eye with choice regard 

From Paneas,^ the fount of Jordan's flood, 

To Beersaba,^ where the Holy Land 

Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shore. 

So wide the opening seemed, where bounds were set 

To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave. 

Satan from hence, now on the lower stair, 540 

That scaled by steps of gold to Heaven-gate, 

Looks down with wonder at the sudden view 

Of all this World at once. As when a scout, 

Through dark and desert ways with peril gone 

All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn 

Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, 

Which to his eye discovers unaware 

The goodly prospect of some foreign land 

First seen, or some renowned metropolis 

With glistering spires and pinnacles adorned, 550 

Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams ; 

Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen. 

The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized. 

At sight of all this World beheld so fair. 

Round he surveys (and well might, where he stood 

So high above the circling- canopy 

Of Night's extended shade) from eastern point 

Of Libra ^ to the fleecy star that bears 

Andromeda - far off Atlantic seas 

Beyond the horizon ; then from pole to pole 560 

1 See map, p» 87. 2 12. 



Book III.] PARADISE LOST. 175 

He views in breadth, — and, without longer pause, 

Down right into the World's first region throws 

His flight precipitant, and winds with ease 

Through the pure marble air* his oblique way 

Amongst innumerable stars,t that shone 

Stars distant, but nigh-hand seemed other worlds. 

Or other worlds they seemed, or happy isles, 

Like those Hesperian Gardens^ famed of old, 

Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales ; 

Thrice happy isles ! But who dwelt happy there 570 

He staid not to inquire : above them all 

The golden Sun, in splendour likest Heaven, 

Allured his eye. Thither his course he bends. 

Through the calm firmament* (but up or down, 

By centre or eccentric,^ hard to tell. 

Or longitude) where the great luminary, 

Aloof the vulgar constellations ^ thick. 

That from his lordly eye keep distance due, 

Dispenses light from far. They, as they move 

Their starry dance in numbers that compute 580 

Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp 

Turn swift their various motions, or are turned 

By his magnetic beam,"^ that gently wa^ms 

The Universe, and to each inward part 

With gentle penetration, though unseen. 

Shoots invisible virtue | even to the Deep ; 

So wondrously was set his station bright. 

There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps 



16I. 


^9. 


3 8. 


417. 


* VII. 264+. 




t VII. 348. 


tVIL364+. 



176 PARADISE LOST. [Book III. 

Astronomer in the Sun's lucent orb 

Through his glazed optic tube * yet never saw. "590 

The place he found beyond expression bright, 

Compared with aught on Earth, metal or stone — = 

Not all parts like, but all alike informed 

With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire. 

If metal, part seemed gold, part silver clear ; 

If stone, carbuncle most or chrysohte, 

Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone 

In Aaron's breast-plate,^ and a stone besides, 

Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen — 

That stone, or like to that, which here below 600 

Philosophers in vain so long have sought ; - 

In vain, though by their powerful art they bind 

Volatile Hermes,"'^ and call up unbound 

In various shapes old Proteus ^ from the sea, 

Drained through a Hmbec to his native form. 

What wonder then if fields and regions here 

Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run 

Potable gold,^ when, with one virtuous touch. 

The arch-chemic Sun, so far from us remote, 

Produces, with terrestrial humour mixed, 610 

Here in the dark so many precious things 

Of colour glorious and effect so rare ? 

Here matter new to gaze the Devil met 

Undazzled. Far and wide his eye commands ; 

For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade. 

But all sunshine, as when his beams at noon 

Culminate from the equator, as they now 

1 89. 2 6. 37. 4 50. * I. 288. 



Book III.] PARADISE LOST. 177 

Shot upward still direct, whence no way round 

Shadow from body opaque can fall ; and the air, 

Nowhere so clear, sharpened his visual ray 620 

To objects distant far, whereby he soon 

Saw within ken a glorious Angel stand, 

The same whom John saw also in the Sun.^ 

His back was turned, but not his brightness hid ; 

Of beaming sunny rays a golden tiar 

Circled his head, nor less his locks behind 

Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings 

Lay waving round ; on some great charge employed 

He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep. 

Glad was the Spirit impure, as now in hope 630 

To find who might direct his wandering flight 

To Paradise, the happy seat of Man, 

His journey's end, and our beginning woe. 

But first he casts to change his proper shape, 

Which else might work him danger or delay : 

And now a striphng Cherub he appears, 

Not of the prime, yet such as in his face 

Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb 

Suitable grace diffused ; so well he feigned. * 

Under a coronet his flowing hair 640 

In curls on either cheek played ; wings he wore 

Of many a coloured plume sprinkled with gold, 

His habit fit for speed succinct, and held 

Before his decent steps a silver wand. 

He drew not nigh unheard ; the Angel bright, 

Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turned, 

1 Revelation xix. 1 7. 



178 PARADISE LOST. [Book III. 

Admonished by his ear, and straight was known 

The Archangel Uriel — one of the seven 

Who in God's presence, nearest to his throne, 

Stand ready in command, and are his eyes 650 

That run through all the Heavens, or down to the Earth 

Bear his swift errands over moist and dry, 

O'er sea and land.^ Him Satan thus accosts : — 

" Uriel ! for thou of those seven Spirits that stand 
In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright, 
The first art wont his great authentic will 
Interpreter through highest Heaven to bring. 
Where all his Sons thy embassy attend. 
And here art likeliest by supreme decree 
Like honour to obtain, and as his eye 660 

To visit oft his new Creation round — 
Unspeakable desire to see and know 
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man, 
His chief dehght and favour, him for whom 
All these his works so wondrous he ordained. 
Hath brought me from the quires of Cherubim 
Alone thus wandering. Brightest Seraph, tell 
In which of all these shining orbs hath Man 
His fixed seat — or fixed seat hath none. 
But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell — 670 

That I may find him, and with secret gaze 
Or open admiration him behold 
On whom the great Creator hath bestowed 
Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces poured ; 
That both in him and all things, as is meet, 



1 72. 



Book III.] PARADISE LOST. 179 

The Universal Maker we may praise ; 

Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes 

To deepest Hell, and, to repair that loss, 

Created this new happy race of Men 

To serve him better : wise are all his ways ! " 680 

So spake the false dissembler unperceived ; 
For neither man nor angel can discern 
Hypocrisy — the only evil that walks 
Invisible, except to God alone, 
By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth ; 
And oft, though Wisdom wake. Suspicion sleeps 
At Wisdom's gate, and to Simplicity 
Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no ill 
Where no ill seems : which now for once beguiled 
Uriel, though Regent of the Sun, and held 690 

The sharpest-sighted Spirit of all in Heaven ; 
Who to the fraudulent impostor foul, 
In his uprightness, answer thus returned : — 

" Fair Angel, thy desire, which tends to know 
The works of God, thereby to glorify 
The great Work-master, leads to no excess 
That reaches blame, but rather merits praise 
The more it seems excess, that led thee hither 
From thy empyreal mansion thus alone. 
To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps, 700 

Contented with report, hear only in Heaven : 
For wonderful indeed are all his works. 
Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all 
Had in remembrance always with deHght ! 
But what created mind can comprehend 
Their number, or the wisdom infinite 



i8o PARADISE LOST. [Book III. 

That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep? 

I saw when, at his word,* the formless mass. 

This World's material mould, came to a heap : 

Confusion heard his voice, and wild Uproar 710 

Stood ruled, stood vast Infinitude confined ; 

Till, at his second bidding, Darkness fled. 

Light shone, t and order from disorder sprung. 

Swift to their several quarters hasted then 

The cumbrous elements — Earth, Flood, Air, Fire;! 

And this ethereal quintessence ^ of Heaven 

Flew upward, spirited with various forms. 

That rolled orbicular, and turned to stars 

Numberless as thou seest, and how they move : 

Each had his place appointed, each his course ; 720 

The rest in circuit walls this Universe. 

Look downward on that globe, whose hither side 

With light from hence, though but reflected, shines : 

That place is Earth, the seat of Man ; that light 

His day, which else, as the other hemisphere, 

Night would invade ; but there the neighbouring Moon § 

(So call that opposite fair star) her aid 

Timely interposes, and, her monthly round 

Still ending, still renewing, through mid-heaven, 

With borrowed light ^ her countenance triform 730 

Hence fills and empties, to enlighten the Earth, 

And in her pale dominion checks the night. 

That spot to which I point is Paradise, 

Adam's abode ; those lofty shades his bower. 

1 5. '' 17- 

* VII. 216. t VII. 243. J II. 912. § VII. 375 + . 



Book III.] PARADISE LOST. i8i 

Thy way thou canst not miss ; me mine requires." 

Thus said, he turned ; and Satan, bowing low, 
As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven, 
Where honour due and reverence none neglects. 
Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth beneath, 
Down from the ecliptic,^ sped with hoped success, 740 
Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel. 
Nor staid till on Niphates' top he lights. 

1 9, note ; II, 



PARADISE LOST, 

BOOK IV. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

Satan, now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must 
now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against God 
and Man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions — 
fear, envy, and despair ; but at length confirms himself in evil ; journeys 
on to Paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described ; 
overleaps the bounds ; sits, in the shape of a cormorant, on the Tree of 
Life, as highest in the Garden, to look about him. The Garden de- 
scribed ; Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve ; his wonder at their ex- 
cellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall ; 
overhears their discourse; thence gathers that the Tree of Knowledge 
was forbidden them to eat of under penalty of death, and thereon in- 
tends to found his temptation by seducing them to transgress ; then 
leaves them a while, to know further of their state by some other means. 
Meanwhile Uriel, descending on a sunbeam, warns Gabriel, who had in 
charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped the Deep, 
and passed at noon by his Sphere, in the shape of a good Angel, down 
to Paradise, discovered after by his furious gestures in the mount. 
Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam 
and Eve discourse of going to their rest : their bower described ; their 
evening worship. Gabriel, drawing forth his bands of night-watch to 
walk the rounds of Paradise, appoints two strong Angels to Adam's 
bower, lest the evil Spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam 
or Eve sleeping : there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in 
a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel ; by whom ques- 
tioned, he scornfully answers; prepares resistance; but, hindered by a 
sign from Heaven, flies out of Paradise. 

184 



Book IV.] PARADISE LOST. 185 



BOOK IV. 

O FOR that warning voice, which he who saw 

The Apocalypse heard cry in Heaven aloud, 

Then when the Dragon, put to second rout. 

Came furious down to be revenged on men, 

" Woe to the inhabitants on Earth ! " that now, 

While time was, our first parents had been warned 

The coming of their secret foe, and scaped, 

Haply so scaped, his mortal snare ! For now 

Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down, 

The tempter, ere the accuser, of mankind. 

To wreak on innocent frail Man his loss 

Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell. 

Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold 

Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast. 

Begins his dire attempt ; which, nigh the birth 

Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast, 

And like a deviHsh engine back recoils 

Upon himself. Horror and doubt distract 

His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir 

The hell within him ; for within him Hell 

He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell 

One step, no more than from himself, can fly 

By change of place. Now conscience wakes despair 

That slumbered ; wakes the bitter memory 



i86 PARADISE LOST. [Book IV. 

Of what he was, what is, and what must be 

Worse ; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue ! 

Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view 

Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad ; 

Sometimes towards Heaven and the full-blazing Sun, 

Which now sat high in his meridian tower : 30 

Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began : — 

" O thou that, with surpassing glory crowned, 
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god 
Of this new World — at whose sight all the stars 
Hide their diminished heads — to thee I call, 
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 

Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams. 
That bring to my remembrance from what state 

1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere, 

Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, 40 

Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King ! 

Ah, wherefore ? He deserved no such return 

From me, whom he created what I was 

In that bright eminence, and with his good 

Upbraided none ; nor was his service hard. 

What could be less than to afford him praise. 

The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks, 

How due? Yet all his good proved ill in me, 

And wrought but malice. Lifted up so high, 

1 sdained subjection, and thought one step higher 50 

Would set me highest, and in a moment quit 

The debt immense of endless gratitude, 

So burdensome, still paying, still to owe ; 

Forgetful what from him I still received ; 

And understood not that a grateful mind 



Book IV. ] PARADISE LOST. 187 

By owing owes not, but still pays, at once 

Indebted and discharged — what burden then? 

Oh, had his powerful destiny ordained 

Me some inferior Angel, I had stood 

Then happy ; no unbounded hope had raised 60 

Ambition. Yet why not? Some other Power 

As great might have aspired, and me, though mean. 

Drawn to his part. But other Powers as great 

Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within 

Or from without to all temptations armed ! 

Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand ? 

Thou hadst. Whom hast thou then, or what, to accuse. 

But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all? 

Be then his love accursed, since, love or hate, 

To me alike it deals eternal woe. 70 

Nay, cursed be thou ; since against his thy will • 

Chose freely what it now so justly rues. 

Me miserable ! which way shall I fly 

Infinite wrath and infinite despair? 

Which way I fly is Hell ; myself am Hell ; * 

And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep 

Still threatening to devour me opens wide, 

To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven. 

O, then, at last relent ! Is there no place 

Left for repentance, none for pardon left? 80 

None left but by submission ; and that word 

Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame 

Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced 

With other promises and other vaunts 



254. 



i88 PARADISE LOST. [Book IV. 

Than to submit, boasting I could subdue 

The Omnipotent. Ay me ! they Httle know 

How dearly I abide that boast so vain, 

Under what torments inwardly I groan. 

While they adore me on the throne of Hell, 

With diadem and sceptre high advanced, 90 

The lower still I fall, only supreme 

In misery : such joy ambition finds ! 

But say I could repent, and could obtain. 

By act of grace, my former state ; how soon 

Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay 

What feigned submission swore ! Ease would recant 

Vows made in pain, as violent and void 

(For never can true reconcilement grow 

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep) ; 

Which Avould but lead me to a worse relapse 100 

And heavier fall : so should I purchase dear 

Short intermission, bought with double smart. 

This knows my Punisher ; therefore as far 

From granting he, as I from begging, peace. 

All hope excluded thus, behold, instead 

Of us, outcast, exiled, his new delight. 

Mankind, created, and for him this World ! 

So farewell hope, and, with hope, farewell fear. 

Farewell remorse ! All good to me is lost ; 

Evil, be thou my Good : by thee at least no 

Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold, 

By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign : 

As Man ere long, and this new World, shall know." 



PARADISE LOST. 

BOOK VI. 

(189-356, 524-892.) 



[Following the justly admired apostrophe to the sun comes an 
account of Satan's penetration into Paradise, and his espial upon 
the happy and innocent life of Adam and Eve, to ascertain in what 
way they might be attacked. Their conversation over the pro- 
hibited eating of the fruit of the tree of knowledge furnishes him 
with the needed suggestion, and taking the form of a toad he 
attempts to poison Eve's mind by prompting inordinate desires as 
she lies asleep. Surprised in the act of whispering in her ear by 
the angelic guard of Eden, he is driven from the garden in confu- 
sion and remains hidden from sight for seven days (Book IV.). 

Meanwhile the angel Raphael descends to warn Adam of his 
secret foe. He recounts how pride and ambition had led Satan to 
reject the authority of the Son of God, and how he had incited all 
his legions to revolt against that authority with the exception of one 
faithful seraph, Abdiel (Book V.). Raphael tells of Abdiel's flight 
to announce to God the news of Satan's rebellion and God's ap- 
proval of his loyalty. He describes the hasty approach of Satan's 
army, and recounts Satan's haughty address to Abdiel, threatening 
revenge for his desertion, and the latter's reply to Satan in words 
of rebuke for his treason, ending with the defiance, 

"This greeting on thy impious ciest receive." — Ed.] 

190 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 19T 



BOOK VI. 

(189-356, 524-892.) 

" So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, 
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell 190 

On the proud crest of Satan that no sight, 
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield, 
Such ruin intercept. Ten paces huge 
He back recoiled ; the tenth on bended knee 
His massy spear upstayed : as if, on earth. 
Winds under ground, or waters forcing way, 
Sidelong had pushed a mountain from his seat. 
Half-sunk with all his pines. Amazement seized 
The rebel Thrones, but greater rage, to see 
Thus foiled their mightiest ; ours joy filled, and shout, 200 
Presage of victory, and fierce desire 
Of battle : whereat Michael bid sound 
The Archangel trumpet. . Through the vast of Heaven 
It sounded, and the faithful armies rung 
Hosannah to the Highest ; nor stood at gaze 
The adverse legions, nor less hideous joined 
The horrid shock. Now storming fury rose, 
And clamour such as heard in heaven till now 
Was never ; arms on armour clashing brayed 
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels 210 

Of brazen chariots raged ; dire was the noise 
Of conflict ; overhead the dismal hiss 



192 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew, 

And, flying, vaulted either host with fire. 

So under fiery cope together rushed 

Both battles main with ruinous assault 

And inextinguishable rage. All Heaven 

Resounded ; and, had Earth been then, all Earth 

Had to her centre shook. What wonder, when 

Millions of fierce encountering Angels fought 220 

On either side, the least of whom could wield 

These elements,^ and arm him with the force 

Of all their regions? How much more of power 

Army against army numberless to raise 

Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb, 

Though not destroy, their happy native seat ; 

Had not the Eternal King Omnipotent 

From his strong hold of Heaven high overruled 

And Hmited their might, though numbered such 

As each divided legion might have seemed 230 

A numerous host, in strength each armed hand 

A legion ! Led in fight, yet leader seemed 

Each warrior single as in chief; expert 

When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway 

Of battle, open when, and when to close 

The ridges of grim war. No thought of flight. 

None of retreat, no unbecoming deed 

That argued fear ; each on himself relied 

As only in his arm the moment lay 

Of victory. Deeds of eternal fame 240 

Were done, but infinite ; for wide was spread 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 193 

That war, and various : sometimes on firm ground 
A standing fight ; then, soaring on main wing, 
Tormented all the air ; all air seemed then 
Conflicting fire. Long time in even scale 
The battle hung ; till Satan, who that day 
Prodigious power had shown, and^met in arms 
No equal, ranging through the dire attack 
Of fighting Seraphim confused, at length 
Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and felled 250 
Squadrons at once : with huge two-handed sway 
Brandished aloft, the horrid edge came down 
Wide-wasting. Such destruction to withstand 
He hasted, and opposed the rocky orb 
Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield,* 
A vast circumference. At his approach 
The great Archangel from his warlike toil 
Surceased, and, glad, as hoping here to end 
Intestine war in Heaven, the Arch-foe subdued, 
Or captive dragged in chains, with hostile frown 260 

And visage all inflamed, first thus began : — 
" ' Author of Evil, unknown till thy revolt. 
Unnamed in Heaven, now plenteous as thou seest 
These acts of hateful strife — hateful to all, 
Though heaviest, by just measure, on thyself 
And thy adherents — how hast thou disturbed 
Heaven's blessed peace, and into Nature brought 
Misery, uncreated till the crime 
Of thy rebelhon ! how hast thou instilled 
Thy mahce into thousands, once upright 270 

* I. 284. 



194 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

And faithful, now proved false ! But think not here 

To trouble holy rest ; Heaven casts thee out 

From all her confines ; Heaven, the seat of bliss, 

Brooks not the works of violence and war. 

Hence, then, and Evil go with thee along, 

Thy oftspring, to the place of Evil, Hell — 

Thou and thy wicked crew ! there mingle broils ! 

Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom, 

Or some more sudden vengeance, winged from God, 

Precipitate thee with augmented pain.' 280 

" So spake the Prince of Angels ; to whom thus 
The Adversary : — ' Nor think thou with wind 
Of airy threats to awe whom yet with deeds 
Thou canst not. Hast thou turned the least of these 
To flight — or, if to fall, but that they rise 
Unvanquished — easier to transact with- me 
That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats 
To chase me hence ? Err not that so shall end 
The strife which thou call'st evil, but we style 
The strife of glory ; which we mean to win, 290 

Or turn this Heaven itself into the Hell 
Thou fablest ; here, however, to dwell free. 
If not to reign. Meanwhile, thy utmost force — 
And join him named Almighty to thy aid — 
I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh.' 

"They ended parle, and both addressed for fight 
Unspeakable ; for who, though with the tongue 
Of Angels, can relate, or to what things 
Liken on Earth conspicuous, that may lift 
Human imagination to such highth 300 

Of godlike power? for likest gods they seemed. 



Bof)K VI.] PARADISE LOST. 195 

Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms, 

Fit to decide the empire of great Heaven. 

Now waved their fiery swords, and in the air 

Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 

Blazed opposite, while Expectation stood 

In horror ; from each hand with speed retired, 

Where erst was thickest fight, the Angelic throng, 

And left large field, unsafe within the wind 

Of such commotion : such as (to set forth 310 

Great things by small) if, Nature's concord broke, 

Among the constellations war were sprung. 

Two planets,* rushing from aspect malign 

Of fiercest opposition,^ in mid sky 

Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound. 

Together both, with next to almighty arm 

Uplifted imminent, one stroke they aimed 

That might determine, and not need repeat 

As not of power, at once ; nor odds appeared 

In might or swift prevention. But the sword 320 

Of Michael from the armoury of God 

Was given him tempered so that neither keen 

Nor sohd might resist that edge : it met 

The sword of Satan, with steep force to smite 

Descending, and in half cut sheer ; nor stayed. 

But, with swift wheel reverse, deep entering, shared 

All his right side. Then Satan first knew pain, 

And writhed him to and fro convolved ; so sore 

The griding sword with discontinuous wound 

Passed through him. But the ethereal substance closed, 330 

^16. * II. 708. 



196 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

Not long divisible ; and from the gash 

A stream of nectarous humour issuing flowed 

Sanguine, such as celestial Spirits may bleed, 

And all his armour stained, erewhile so bright. 

Forthwith, on all sides, to his aid was run 

By Angels many and strong, who interposed 

Defence, while others bore him on their shields 

Back to his chariot where it stood retired 

From off the files of war : there they him laid 

Gnashing for angirish, and despite, and shame 340 

To find himself not matchless, and his pride 

Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath 

His confidence to equal God in power. 

Yet soon he healed ; for Spirits, that live throughout 

Vital in every part * — not, as frail Man, 

In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins — 

Cannot but by annihilating die ; 

Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound 

Receive, no more than can the fluid air : 

AH heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear, 350 

AU intellect, all sense ; and as they please 

They limb themselves, and color, shape, or size 

Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare." 

[Here follows an account of the overthrow of lesser warriors, 
and the partial rout of Satan's army, checked only by the interven- 
tion of night. Signs of dissension and distrust appear in Satan's 
host, especially in a demand for more effective methods of fighting. 
Satan's devilish ingenuity enables him to retain his supremacy by 
the invention of cannon and the necessary explosive compounds, 
and these are hastily prepared, under cover of the darkness. — Ed.] 

* 1. 423+. 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 197 

" Now, when fair Morn orient in Heaven appeared, 
Up rose the victor Angels, and to arms 
The matin trumpet sung. In arms they stood 
Of golden panoply, refulgent host, 
Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 
Looked round, and scouts each coast light-armed scour. 
Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, 530 

Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight. 
In motion or in halt. Him soon they met 
Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 
But firm battalion : back with speediest sail 
Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing, 
Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried : — 

" ' Arm, Warriors, arm for fight ! The foe at hand. 
Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit 
This day ; fear not his flight ; so thick a cloud 
He comes, and settled in his face I see 540 

Sad resolution and secure. Let each 
His adamantine coat gird well, and each 
Fit well his helm, gripe fast his orbed shield, 
Borne even or high ; for this day will pour down. 
If I conjecture aught, no drizzling shower, 
But rattling storm of arrows barbed with fire.' 

*' So warned he them, aware themselves, and soon 
In order, quit of all impediment. 
Instant, without disturb, they took alarm, 
And onward move embattled : when, behold, 550 

Not distant far, with heavy pace the foe 
Approaching gross and huge, in hollow cube 
Training his devilish enginry, impaled 
On every side with shadowing squadrons deep. 



198 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 
A while ; but suddenly at head appeared 
Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud : — 

" ' Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold. 
That all may see who hate us how we seek 
Peace and composure, and with open breast 560 

Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
Our overture, and turn not back perverse : 
But that I doubt. However, witness Heaven ! 
Heaven, witness thou anon ! while we discharge 
Freely our part. Ye, who appointed stand, 
Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch 
What we propound, and loud that all may hear.' 

" So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce 
Had ended, when to right and left the front 
Divided, and to either flank retired ; 570 

Which to our eyes discovered, new and strange, 
A triple mounted row of pillars laid 
On wheels (for like to pillars most they seemed. 
Or hollowed bodies made of oak or fir, 
With branches lopt, in wood or mountain felled). 
Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouths 
With hideous orifice gaped on us wide, 
Portending hollow truce. At each, behind, 
A Seraph stood, and in his hand a reed 
Stood waving tipt with fire ; while we, suspense, 580 

Collected stood within our thoughts amused. 
Not long ! for sudden all at once their reeds 
Put forth, and to a narrow vent applied 
With nicest touch. Immediate in a flame. 
But soon obscured with smoke, all Heaven appeared. 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 199 

From those deep-throated engines belched, whose roar 

Embowelled with outrageous noise the air, 

And all her entrails tore, disgorging foul 

Their devilish glut, chained thunderbolts and hail 

Of iron globes ; which, on the victor host 590 

Levelled, with such impetuous fury smote, 

That whom they hit none on their feet might stand, 

Though standing else as rocks, but down they fell 

By thousands. Angel on Archangel rolled. 

The sooner for their arms. Unarmed, they might 

Have easily, as Spirits, evaded swift 

By quick contraction * or remove ; but now 

Foul dissipation followed, and forced rout ; 

Nor served it to relax their serried files. 

What should they do? If on they rushed, repulse 600 

Repeated, and indecent overthrow 

Doubled, would render them yet more despised, 

And to their foes a laughter — for in view 

Stood ranked of Seraphim another row. 

In posture to displode their second tire 

Of thunder ; back defeated to return 

They worse abhorred. Satan beheld their plight, 

And to his mates thus in derision called : — 

" ' O friends, why come not on these victors proud ? 
Erewhile they fierce were coming ; and, when we, 610 
To entertain them fair with open front 
And breast (what could we more ?) , propounded terms 
Of composition, straight they changed their minds, 
Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell, 

* I. 429. 



200 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

As they would dance. Yet for a dance they seemed 
Somewhat extravagant and wild ; perhaps 
For joy of offered peace. But I suppose, 
If our proposals once again were heard, 
We should compel them to a quick result.' 

" To whom thus Belial,* in like gamesome mood : — 620 
* Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight. 
Of hard contents, and full of force urged home, 
Such as we might perceive amused them all. 
And stumbled many. Who receives them right 
Had need from head to foot well understand ; 
Not understood, this gift they have besides — 
They show us when our foes walk not upright.' 

" So they among themselves in pleasant vein 
Stood scoffing, highthened in their thoughts beyond 
All doubt of victory ; Eternal Might 630 

To match with their inventions they presumed 
So easy, and of his thunder made a scorn. 
And all his host derided, while they stood 
A while in trouble. But they stood not long ; 
Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms 
Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose. 
Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power, 
Which God hath in his mighty Angels placed !) 
Their arms away they threw, and to the hills 
(For Earth hath this variety from Heaven 640 

Of pleasure situate in hill and dale) 
Light as the Hghtning-glimpse they ran, they flew ; 
From their foundations, loosening to and fro, 

* II. 112. 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 201 

They plucked the seated hills,* with all their load, 

Rocks, waters, woods, and, by the shaggy tops 

Uplifting, bore them in their hands. Amaze, 

Be sure, and terror, seized the rebel host. 

When coming towards them so dread they saw 

The bottom of the mountains upward turned. 

Till on those cursed engines' triple row 650 

They saw them whelmed, and all their confidence 

Under the weight of mountains buried deep ; 

Themselves invaded next, and on their heads 

Main promontories flung, which in the air 

Came shadowing, and oppressed whole legions armed. 

Their armour helped their harm, crushed in and bruised. 

Into their substance pent — which wrought them pain 

Implacable, and many a dolorous groan. 

Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind 

Out of such prison, though Spirits of purest light, 660 

Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. 

The rest, in imitation, to hke arms 

Betook them, and the neighbouring hills uptore ; 

So hills amid the air encountered hills. 

Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire. 

That underground they fought in dismal shade : 

Infernal noise ! war seemed a civil game 

To this uproar ; horrid confusion heaped 

Upon confusion rose. And now all Heaven 

Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread, 670 

Had not the Almighty Father, where he sits 

Shrined in his sanctuary of Heaven secure, 

* IL 540. 



202 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen 

This tumult, and permitted all, advised, 

That his great purpose he might so fulfil, 

To honour his Anointed Son, avenged 

Upon his enemies, and to declare 

All power on him transferred. Whence to his Son, 

The assessor of his throne, he thus began : — 

" ^ Effulgence of my glory, Son beloved, 680 

Son in whose face invisible is beheld 
Visibly, what by Deity I am, 
And in whose hand what by decree I do. 
Second Omnipotence ! two days are passed, 
Two days, as we compute the days of Heaven, 
Since Michael and his Powers went forth to tame 
These disobedient. Sore hath been their fight, 
As likeliest was when two such foes met armed : 
For to themselves I left them ; and thou know'st 
Equal in their creation they were formed, 690 

Save what sin hath impaired — which yet hath wrought 
Insensibly, for I suspend their doom : 
Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last 
Endless, and no solution will be found. 
War wearied hath performed what war can do, 
And to disordered rage let loose the reins. 
With mountains, as with weapons, armed ; which makes 
Wild work in Heaven, and dangerous to the main. 
Two days are, therefore, passed ; the third is thine : 
For thee I have ordained it, and thus far 700 

Have suffered, that the glory may be thine 
Of ending this great war, since none but thou 
Can end it. Into thee such virtue and grace 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 203 

Immense I have transfused, that all may know 

In Heaven and Hell thy power above compare, 

And this perverse commotion governed thus, 

To manifest thee worthiest to be Heir 

Of all things — to be Heir, and to be King 

By sacred unction, thy deserved right. 

Go, then, thou Mightiest, in thy Father's might ; 710 

Ascend my chariot ; guide the rapid wheels 

That shake Heaven's basis ; bring forth all my war ; 

My bow and thunder, my almighty arms. 

Gird on, and sword upon thy puissant thigh ; 

Pursue these Sons of Darkness, drive them out 

From all Heaven's bounds into the utter Deep ; 

There let them learn, as likes them, to despise 

God, and Messiah his anointed King.' 

" He said, and on his Son with rays direct 
Shone full. He all his Father full expressed 720 

Ineffably into his face received ; 
And thus the Filial Godhead answering spake : — 

" ' O Father, O Supreme of Heavenly Thrones, 
First, Highest, Holiest, Best, thou always seek'st 
To glorify thy Son ; I always thee. 
As is most just. This I my glory account, 
My exaltation, and my whole delight. 
That thou in me, well pleased, declar'st thy will 
Fulfilled, which to fulfil is all my bliss. 
Sceptre and power, thy giving, I assume, 730 

And gladlier shall resign when in the end 
Thou shalt be all in all, and I in thee 
For ever, and in me all whom thou lov'st. 
But whom thou hat'st I hate, and can put on 



204 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

Thy terrors, as I put thy mildness on, 

Image of thee in all things : and shall soon, 

Armed with thy might, rid Heaven of these rebelled. 

To their prepared ill mansion driven down, 

To chains of darkness and the undying worm,^ 

That from thy just obedience could revolt, 74° 

Whom to obey is happiness entire. 

Then shall thy Saints, unmixed, and from the impure 

Far separate, circling thy holy Mount, 

Unfeigned halleluiahs to thee sing, 

Hymns of high praise, and I among them chief.' 

" So said, he, o'er his sceptre bowing, rose 
From the right hand of Glory where he sat ; 
And the third sacred morn began to shine. 
Dawning through Heaven. Forth rushed with whirlwind 

sound 
The chariot of Paternal Deity, 750 

Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel ; undrawn. 
Itself instinct with spirit,* but convoyed 
By four cherubic Shapes. Four faces ^ each 
Had wondrous ; as with stars, their bodies all 
And wings were set with eyes ; with eyes the wheels 
Of beryl, and careering fires between ; 
Over their heads a crystal firmament. 
Whereon a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure 
Amber and colours of the showery arch. 
He, in celestial panoply all armed 760 

Of radiant Urim,^ work divinely wrought, 
Ascended ; at his right hand Victory 

1 94. 2 72. 3 89. * VII. 204. 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 205 

Sat eagle- winged ; beside him hung his bow, 

And quiver, with three-bolted thunder stored ; 

And from about him fierce effusion rolled 

Of smoke and bickering flame and sparkles dire. 

Attended with ten thousand thousand Saints, 

He onward came ; far off his coming shone ; 

And twenty thousand (I their number heard) 

Chariots of God, half on each hand, were seen. 770 

He on the wings of Cherub rode sublime 

On the crystalline sky, in sapphire throned — 

Illustrious far and wide, but by his own 

First seen. Them unexpected joy surprised 

When the great ensign of Messiah blazed 

Aloft, by Angels borne, his sign in Heaven ; 

Under whose conduct Michael soon reduced 

His army, circumfused on either wing, 

Under their Head embodied all in one. 

Before him Power Divine his way prepared ; 780 

At his command the uprooted hills retired 

Each to his place ; they heard his voice, and went 

Obsequious ; Heaven his wonted face renewed. 

And with fresh flowerets hill and valley smiled. 

" This saw his hapless foes, but stood obdured, 
And to rebellious fight rallied their Powers, 
Insensate, hope conceiving from despair. 
In Heavenly Spirits could such perverseness dwell? 
But to convince the proud what signs avail, 
Or wonders move the obdurate to relent ? 790 

They, hardened more by what might most reclaim. 
Grieving to see his glory, at the sight 
Took envy, and, aspiring to his highth. 



2o6 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

Stood re-embattled fierce, by force or fraud 

Weening to prosper, and at length prevail 

Against God and Messiah, or to fall 

In universal ruin last ; and now 

To final battle drew, disdaining flight. 

Or faint retreat : when the great Son of God 

To all his host on either hand thus spake : — 800 

" ' Stand still in bright array, ye Saints ; here stand, 
Ye angels armed ; this day from battle rest. 
Faithful hath been your warfare, and of God 
Accepted, fearless in his righteous cause ; 
And, as ye have received, so have ye done, 
.Invincibly. But of this cursed crew 
The punishment to other hand belongs ; 
Vengeance is his, or whose he sole appoints. 
Number to this day's work is not ordained. 
Nor multitude ; stand only and behold 810 

God's indignation on these godless poured 
By me. Not you, but me, they have despised. 
Yet envied ; against me is all their rage, 
Because the Father, to whom in Heaven supreme 
Kingdom and power and glory appertains. 
Hath honoured me, according to his will. 
Therefore to me their doom he hath assigned. 
That they may have their wish, to try with me 
In battle which the stronger proves — they all, 
Or I alone against them ; since by strength 820 

They measure all, of other excellence 
Not emulous, nor care who them excels ; 
Nor other strife with them do I voutsafe.' 

" So spake the Son, and into terror changed 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 207 

His countenance, too severe to be beheld, 

And full of wrath bent on his enemies. 

At once the Four spread out their starry wings 

With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs 

Of his fierce chariot rolled, as with the sound 

Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. 830 

He on his impious foes right onward drove. 

Gloomy as Night. Under his burning wheels 

The steadfast Empyrean shook throughout. 

All but the throne itself of God. Full soon 

Among them he arrived, in his right hand 

Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent 

Before him, such as in their souls infixed 

Plagues. They, astonished, all resistance lost. 

All courage ; down their idle weapons dropt ; 

O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he rode 840 

Of Thrones and mighty Seraphim prostrate. 

That wished the mountains now might be again 

Thrown on them, as a shelter from his ire. 

Nor less on either side tempestuous fell 

His arrows, from the fourfold-visaged Four, 

Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels, 

Distinct alike with multitude of eyes ; 

One spirit in them ruled, and every eye 

Glared lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire 

Among the accursed, that withered all their strength, 850 

And of their wonted vigour left them drained. 

Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen. 

Yet half his strength he put not forth, but checked 

His thunder in mid-volley ; for he meant 

Not to destroy, but root them out of Heaven. 



2o8 PARADISE LOST. [Book VI. 

The overthrown he raised, and, as a herd 

Of goats or timorous flock together thronged. 

Drove them before him thunderstruck, pursued 

With terrors and with furies to the bounds 

And crystal wall of Heaven ; which, opening wide, 860 

Rolled inward, and a spacious gap disclosed 

Into the wasteful Deep. The monstrous sight 

Strook them with horror backward ; but far worse 

Urged them behind : headlong themselves they threw * 

Down from the verge of Heaven : eternal wrath 

Burnt after them to the bottomless pit. 

" Hell heard the unsufferable noise ; Hell saw 
Heaven ruining from Heaven, and would have fled 
Affrighted ; but strict Fate had cast too deep 
Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound. 870 

Nine days they fell ; confounded Chaos roared, 
And felt tenfold confusion in their fall 
Through his wild Anarchy ; so huge a rout 
Encumbered him with ruin. Hell at last, 
Yawning, received them whole, and on them closed — 
Hell, their fit habitation, fraught with fire 
Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain. 
Disburdened Heaven rejoiced, and soon repaired 
Her mural breach, returning whence it rolled. 
Sole victor, from the expulsion of his foes 880 

Messiah his triumphal chariot turned. 
To meet him all his Saints, who silent stood 
Eye-witnesses of his almighty acts. 
With jubilee advanced ; and, as they went, 

*I.44+. 



Book VI.] PARADISE LOST. 209 

Shaded with branching palm, each order bright 

Sung triumph, and him sung victorious King, 

Son, Heir, and Lord, to him dominion given, 

Worthiest to reign. He celebrated rode, 

Triumphant through mid Heaven, into the courts 

And temple of his mighty Father throned 890 

On high ; who into glory him received. 

Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss." 



PARADISE LOSTc 

BOOK VII. 
(192-568.) 



[Raphael concludes his account of the war in Heaven with a 
warning against disobedience, but at Adam's request he also relates 
how the World was created, after the fall of vSatan from Heaven 
(Book VII.).— Ed.] 



Book VII.] PARADISE LOST. 213 



BOOK VII. 

(192-568.) 

" Meanwhile the Son 
On his great expedition now appeared, 
Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crowned 
Of majesty divine, sapience and love 
Immense ; and all his Father in him shone. 
About his chariot numberless were poured 
Cherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones, 
And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots winged 
From the armoury of God, where stand of old 200 

Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged 
Against a solemn day, harnessed at hand, 
Celestial equipage ; and now came forth 
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit lived, 
Attendant on their Lord. Heaven opened wide 
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound 
On golden hinges moving,* to let forth 
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word 
And Spirit coming to create new worlds. 
On Heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore 210 
They viewed the vast immeasurable Abyss, 
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, 
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds 

* II. 879+. 



214 PARADISE LOST. [Book VII. 

And surging waves, as mountains to assault 
Heaven's highth, and with the centre mix the pole. 

" ' Silence, ye troubled waves, and, thou Deep, peace ! ' 
Said then the omnific Word : ' your discord end ! ' 
Nor stayed ; but, on the wings of Cherubim 
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode 

Far into Chaos and the World unborn ; 220 

For Chaos heard his voice. Him all his train 
Followed in bright procession, to behold 
Creation, and the wonders of his might. 
Then stayed the fervid wheels, and in his hand 
He took the golden compasses, prepared 
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe 
This Universe, and all created things. 
One foot he centred, and the other turned 
Round through the vast profundity obscure. 
And said, ' Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds ; 230 
This be thy just circumference, O World ! ' 
Thus God the heaven created, thus the Earth, 
Matter unformed and void. Darkness profound 
Covered the Abyss ; but on the watery calm 
His brooding wings * the Spirit of God outspread. 
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth. 
Throughout the fluid mass, but downward purged 
The black, Tartareous, cold, infernal dregs. 
Adverse to hfe ; then founded, then conglobed, 
Like things to Hke, the rest to several place 240 

Disparted, and between spun out the Air, 
And Earth, self-balanced, on her centre hung. 

* I. 20. 



Book VII.] PARADISE LOST. 215 

" ' Let there be Light ! ' said God ; and forthwith Light 
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence ^ pure, 
Sprung from the Deep, and from her native East 
To journey through the aery gloom began. 
Sphered in a radiant cloud — for yet the Sun 
Was not ; she in a cloudy tabernacle 
Sojourned the while. God saw the Light was good ; 
And light from darkness by the hemisphere 250 

Divided : Light the Day, and Darkness Night, 
He named. Thus was the first Day even and morn ; 
Nor passed uncelebrated, nor unsung 
By the celestial quires, when orient Hght 
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld, 
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth. With joy and shout 
The hollow universal orb they filled. 
And touched their golden harps, and hymning praised 
God and his works ; Creator him they sung. 
Both when first evening was, and when first morn. 260 

" Again God said, ' Let there be firmament 
Amid the waters, and let it divide 
The waters from the waters ! ' And God made 
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure, 
Transparent, elemental air,* diffused 
In circuit to the uttermost convex 
Of this great round — partition firm and sure. 
The waters underneath from those above 
Dividing ; for as Earth, so he the World 
Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide 270 

Crystalline ^ ocean, and the loud misrule 

1 5. 29. * HI. 564, 574. 



2i6 PARADISE LOST. [Book VII. 

Of Chaos far removed, lest fierce extremes 
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame : 
And heaven he named the firmament. So even 
And morning chorus sung the second Day. 

" The Earth was formed, but, in the womb as yet 
Of waters, embryon immature, involved. 
Appeared not ; over all the face of Earth 
Main ocean flowed, not idle, but, with warm 
Prolific humour softening all her globe, 280 

Fermented the great mother to conceive. 
Satiate with genial moisture ; when God said, 
* Be gathered now, ye waters under heaven. 
Into one place, and let dry land appear ! ' 
Immediately the mountains huge appear 
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave 
Into the clouds ; their tops ascend the sky. 
So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low 
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep, 
Capacious bed of waters. Thither they 290 

Hasted with glad precipitance, uprolled, 
As drops on dust conglobing, from the dry : 
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct. 
For haste; such flight the great command impressed 
On the swift floods. As armies at the call 
Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard) 
Troop to the standard, so the watery throng, 
Wave rolling after wave, where way they found — 
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain. 
Soft-ebbing ; nor withstood them rock or hill ; 300 

But they, or underground, or circuit wide 
With serpent error wandering, found their way. 



Book VII.] PARADISE LOST. 217 

And on the washy ooze deep channels wore : 

Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry, 

All but within those banks where rivers now 

Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train. 

The dry land Earth, and the great receptacle 

Of congregated waters he called Seas ; 

And saw that it was good, and said, ' Let the Earth 

Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed, 310 

And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind. 

Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth ! ' 

He scarce had said when the bare Earth, till then 

Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorned. 

Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad 

Her universal face with pleasant green ; 

Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flowered. 

Opening their various colours, and made gay 

Her bosom smelling sweet ; and, these scarce blown, 

Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept 320 

The smelling gourd, up stood the corny reed 

Embattled in her field : add the humble shrub, 

And bush with frizzled hair implicit : last 

Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread 

Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed 

Their blossoms. With high woods the hills were crowned. 

With tufts the valleys and each fountain-side. 

With borders long the rivers, that Earth now 

Seemed like to Heaven, a seat where gods might dwell, 

Or wander with delight, and love to haunt 330 

Her sacred shades ; though God had yet not rained 

Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground 

None was, but from the Earth a dewy mist 



2i8 PARADISE LOST. [Book VII. 

Went up and watered all the ground, and each 
Plant of the field, which ere it was in the Earth 
God made, and every herb before it grew 
On the green stem. God saw that it was good ; 
So even and morn recorded the third Day. 

" Again the Almighty spake, ' Let there be Lights 
High in the expanse of heaven, to divide 340 

The Day from Night ; and let them be for signs, 
For seasons, and for days, and circling years ; 
And let them be for lights, as I ordain 
Their office in the firmament of heaven, 
To give light on the Earth ! ' and it was so. 
And God made two great Lights, great for their use 
To Man, the greater to have rule by day. 
The less by night, altern ; and made the Stars, 
And set them in the firmament of heaven 
To illuminate the Earth, and rule the day 350 

In their vicissitude, and rule the night, 
And light from darkness to divide. God saw, 
Surveying his great work, that it was good : 
For, of celestial bodies, first the Sun 
A mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first, 
Though of ethereal mould ; then formed the Moon 
Globose, and every magnitude of Stars, 
And sowed with stars the heaven thick as a field. 
Of light by far the greater part he took, 
Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed 360 

In the Sun's orb, made porous to receive 
And drink the liquid light, firm to retain 
Her gathered beams, great palace now of Light. 
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 



Book VII.] PARADISE LOST. 219 

Repairing in their golden urns draw light, 

And hence the morning planet ^ gilds her horns ; 

By tincture or reflection- they augment 

Their small peculiar, though, from human sight 

So far remote, with diminution seen. 

First m his east the glorious lamp was seen, 370 

Regent of day, and all the horizon round 

Invested with bright rays, jocund to run 

His longitude through heaven's high road ; the grey 

Dawn, and the Pleiades,^ before him danced, 

Shedding sweet influence.'* Less bright the Moon, 

But opposite in levelled west, was set. 

His mirror, with full face borrowing her light 

From him ; * for other light she needed none 

In that aspect, and still that distance keeps 

Till night ; then in the east her turn she shines, 380 

Revolved on heaven's great axle, and her reign 

With thousand lesser lights dividual holds. 

With thousand thousand stars, that then appeared 

Spangling the hemisphere. Then first adorned 

With her bright luminaries, that set and rose. 

Glad evening and glad morn crowned the fourth Day. 

" And God said, ' Let the waters generate 
Reptile with spawn abundant, living soul ; 
And let Fowl fly above the earth, with wings 
Displayed on the open firmament of heaven ! ' 390 

And God created the great whales, and each 
Soul living, each that crept, which plenteously 
The waters generated by their kinds, 

1 14. '^ 17. 3 12. 4 16. * ni. 730, 



220 PARADISE LOST. [Book VII. 

And every bird of wing after his kind, 

And saw that it was good, and blessed them, saying, 

' Be fruitful, multiply, and, in the seas. 

And lakes, and running streams, the waters fill ; 

And let the fowl be multiplied on the earth ! ' 

Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay. 

With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals 400 

Of fish that, with their fins and shining scales. 

Glide under the green wave in sculls that oft 

Bank the mid-sea. Part, single or with mate. 

Graze the sea-weed, their pasture, and through groves 

Of coral stray, or, sporting with quick glance. 

Show to the sun their waved coats dropt with gold, 

Or, in their pearly shells at ease, attend 

Moist nutriment, or under rocks their food 

In jointed armour watch ; on smooth the seal 

And bended dolphins play : part, huge of bulk, 410 

Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait. 

Tempest the ocean. There leviathan,* 

Hugest of living creatures, on the deep 

Stretched like a promontory, sleeps or swims. 

And seems a moving land, and at his gills 

Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out, a sea. 

Meanwhile the tepid caves, and fens, and shores. 

Their brood as numerous hatch from the egg, that soon. 

Bursting with kindly rupture, forth disclosed 

Their callow young ; but feathered soon and fledge 420 

They summed their pens, and, soaring the air sublime, 

With clang despised the ground, under a cloud 

* I. 201. 



Book VII.] PARADISE LOST. 221 

In prospect. There the eagle and the stork 

On cliffs and cedar-tops their eyries build. 

Part loosely wing the region ; part, more wise, 

In common, ranged in figure, wedge their way. 

Intelligent of seasons, and set forth 

Their aery caravan, high over seas 

Flying, and over lands, with mutual wing 

Easing their flight ; so steers the prudent crane 430 

Her annual voyage, borne on winds ; the air 

Floats as they pass, fanned with unnumbered plumes. 

From branch to branch the smaller birds with song 

Solaced the woods, and spread their painted wings, 

Till even ; nor then the solemn nightingale 

Ceased warbling, but all night tuned her soft lays. 

Others, on silver lakes and rivers, bathed 

Their downy breast ; the swan, with arched neck 

Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows 

Her state with oary feet ; yet oft they quit 440 

The dank, and, rising on stiff pennons, tower 

The mid aerial sky. Others on ground 

Walked firm — the crested cock, whose clarion sounds 

The silent hours, and the other, whose gay train 

Adorns him, coloured with the florid hue 

Of rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thus 

With Fish replenished, and the air with Fowl, 

Evening and morn solemnized the fifth Day. 

" The sixth, and of Creation last, arose 
With evening harps and matin ; when God said, 450 

* Let the Earth bring forth soul living in her kind, 
Cattle, and creeping things, and beast of the earth. 
Each in their kind ! ' The Earth obeyed, and, straight 



222 PARADISE LOST. [Book VII. 

Opening her fertile womb, teemed at a birth 

Innumerous Uving creatures, perfect forms, 

Limbed and full-grown. Out of the ground up rose, 

As from his lair, the wild beast, where he wons 

In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den — 

Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walked ; 

The cattle in the fields and meadows green : 460 

Those rare and solitary, these in flocks 

Pasturing at once and in broad herds, upsprung. 

The grassy clods now calved ; now half appeared 

The tawny Hon, pawing to get free 

His hinder parts — then springs, as broke from bonds, 

And rampant shakes his brinded mane ; the ounce, 

The libbard, and the tiger, as the mole 

Rising, the crumbled earth above them threw 

In hillocks ; the swift stag from underground 

Bore up his branching head ; scarce from his mould 470 

Behemoth, biggest born of earth, upheaved 

His vastness ; fleeced the flocks and bleating rose, 

As plants ; ambiguous between sea and land, 

The river-horse and scaly crocodile. 

At once came forth whatever creeps the ground. 

Insect or worm. Those waved their limber fans 

For wings, and smaflest lineaments exact 

In all the liveries decked of summer's pride, 

With spots of gold and purple, azure and green ; 

These as a line their long dimension drew, 480 

Streaking the ground with sinuous trace : not all 

Minims of nature ; some of serpent kind, 

Wondrous in length and corpulence, involved 

Their snaky folds, and added wings. First crept 



Book VII.] PARADISE LOST. 223 

The parsimonious emmet, provident 

Of future, in small room large heart enclosed — 

Pattern of just equality perhaps 

Hereafter — joined in her popular tribes 

Of commonalty. Swarming next appeared 

The female bee, that feeds her husband drone 490 

Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells 

With honey stored. The rest are numberless, 

And thou their natures know'st, and gav'st them names, 

Needless to thee repeated ; nor unknown 

The serpent, subtlest beast of all the field, 

Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes 

And hairy mane terrific, though to thee 

Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. 

" Now Heaven in all her glory shone, and rolled 
Her motions, as the great First Mover's hand 5 

First wheeled their course ; Earth, in her rich attire 
Consummate, lovely smiled ; Air, Water, Earth, 
By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was walked, 
Frequent ; and of the sixth Day yet remained. 
There wanted yet the master-work, the end 
Of all yet done — a creature who, not prone 
And brute as other creatures, but endued 
With sanctity of reason, might erect 
His stature, and, upright with front serene 
Govern the rest, self-knowing, and from thence 
Magnanimous to correspond with Heaven, 
But grateful to acknowledge whence his good 
Descends ; thither with heart, and voice, and eyes 
Directed in devotion, to adore 
And worship God Supreme, who made him chief 



00 



224 PARADISE LOST. [Book VII. 

Of all his works. Therefore the Omnipotent 

Eternal Father (for where is not He 

Present ?) thus to his Son audibly spake : — 

* Let us make now Man in our image, Man 

In our similitude, and let them rule 520 

Over the fish and fowl of sea and air, 

Beast of the field, and over all the earth. 

And every creeping thing that creeps the ground ! ' 

This said, he formed thee, Adam, thee, O Man, 

Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breathed 

The breath of life ; in his own image he 

Created thee, in the image of God 

Express, and thou becam'st a living soul. 

Male he created thee, but thy consort 

Female, for race ; then blessed mankind, and said, 530 

' Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the Earth ; 

Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold 

Over fish of the sea, and fowl of the air. 

And every living thing that moves on the Earth ! ' 

Wherever thus created — for no place 

Is yet distinct by name — thence, as thou know'st. 

He brought thee into this delicious grove, 

This Garden, planted with the trees of God, 

Delectable both to behold and taste, 

And freely all their pleasant fruit for food 540 

Gave thee. All sorts are here that all the earth yields, 

Variety without end ; but of the tree 

Which tasted works knowledge of good and evil 

Thou may'st not ; in the day thou eat'st, thou diest. 

Death is the penalty imposed ; beware, 

And govern well thy appetite, lest Sin 



Book VII.] PARADISE LOST. 225 

Surprise thee, and her black attendant, Death. 

" Here finished He, and all that he had made 
Viewed, and, behold ! all was entirely good. 
So even and morn accomplished the sixth Day ; 550 

Yet not till the Creator, from his work 
Desisting, though unwearied, up returned, 
Up to the Heaven of Heavens, his high abode, 
Thence to behold this new-created World, 
The addition of his empire, how it showed 
In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair, 
Answering his great idea. Up he rode. 
Followed with acclamation, and the sound 
Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned 
Angehc harmonies. The Earth, the Air 560 

Resounded (thou remember'st, for thou heard'st). 
The heavens and all the constellations rung, 
The planets in their stations listening stood, 
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. 

* Open, ye everlasting gates ! ' they sung ; 

* Open, ye Heavens, your living doors ! let in 
The great Creator, from his work returned 
Magnificent, his six days' work, a World ! ' " 



PARADISE LOST. 

BOOK X. 
(504-547.) 



[Adam prolongs the conversation with questions regarding the 
structure of the World, and with accounts of his own experiences 
since he waked to life at the Creator's bidding (Book VIII.). 
Satan, entering into the body of the Serpent, beguiles Eve to eat of 
the forbidden fruit. Adam shares her guilt, whereupon both are 
smitten with shame and consciousness of guilt (Book IX.). Satan, 
returning to Hell with news of his success, meets Sin and Death, 
who have just completed a broad and firm pathway from Hell to the 
World (see II. 1023 + ). He proceeds to Pandemonium, and an- 
nounces to the chiefs (who have reassembled there) his victory over 
Man and the stratagem by which it was won, ending with the words 

" What remains, ye gods, 
But up, and enter now into full bliss." — Ed.] 

228 



Book X.] PARADISE LOST. 229 



BOOK X. 

(504-547.) 

So having said, a while he stood, expecting 
Their universal shout and high applause 
To fill his ear ; when, contrary, he hears. 
On all sides, from innumerable tongues 
A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
Of public scorn. He wondered, but not long 
•Had leisure, wondering at himself now more, 510 

His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare. 
His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining 
Each other, till, supplanted, down he fell, 
A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, 
Reluctant, but in vain ; a greater power 
Now ruled him, punished in the shape he sinned. 
According to his doom. He would have spoke. 
But hiss for hiss returned with forked tongue 
To forked tongue ; for now were all transformed 
Alike, to serpents all, as accessories 520 

To his bold riot. Dreadful was the din 
Of hissing through the hall, thick-swarming now 
With complicated monsters, head and tail — 
Scorpion,^ and Asp,^ and Amphisbaena ^ dire. 
Cerastes ^ horned, Hydrus,^ and Ellops ^ drear. 
And Dipsas^ (not so thick swarmed once the soil 

1 All names of serpents. 



230 PARADISE LOST. [Book X 

Bedropt with blood of Gorgon/ or the isle 

Ophiusa) ; but still greatest he the midst, 

Now Dragon grown, larger than whom the Sun 

Engendered in the Pythian vale on slime, 530 

Huge Python ; - and his power no less he seemed 

Above the rest still to retain. They all 

Him followed, issuing forth to the open field, 

Where all yet left of that revolted rout, 

Heaven-fallen, in station stood or just array, 

SubHme with expectation when to see 

In triumph issuing forth their glorious Chief. 

They saw, but other sight instead — a crowd 

Of ugly serpents ! Horror on them fell. 

And horrid sympathy ; for what they saw 540 

They felt themselves now changing. Down their arms, 

Down fell both spear and shield ; down they as fast. 

And the dire hiss renewed, and the dire form 

Catched by contagion, like in punishment 

As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meant 

Turned to exploding hiss, triumph to shame 

Cast on themselves from their own mouths. 

[Some time thereafter, the infernal angels were permitted to as- 
sume their former shapes, and, escaping to the Earth, to delude the 
heathen world with false religions (cf. Book I. 364 + ). Mean- 
while, at God's command, mighty angels so disturbed the mech- 
anism of the World as to destroy the benign conditions which had 
hitherto universally prevailed upon the Earth, and war sprang up 
among various living things. Thus the Earth reflected man's sin- 
fulness, and Adam and Eve in despair contemplated self-destruc- 
tion. Better counsels prevailed, and they determined to work out 

1 52. 2 39. 



Book X.] PARADISE LOST. 231 

in patience whatever fate God might ordain for them (Book X.). 
God, at his Son's intercession, was reconciled to man, but denied to 
the guilty pair the further enjoyment of Paradise. Before bidding 
farewell to his home, however, Adam was comforted by a revelation 
(in a prophetic vision) of the history of his Seed up to the time of 
God's covenant with Abraham (see 81) and of the ultimate salva- 
tion of the race through Christ's atoning sacrifice (Books XI. and 
XII.). — Ed.] 



232 PARADISE LOST. 

NOTES. 

PARADISE LOST. 

These notes aim to call attention to the literary art 
of the composition. It is assumed that the pupil will 
employ the glossary and the introduction in elucidating 
the meaning of the poem, without repeated injunctions 
to do so. 

Book L 

1-26. Note in what relation (see p. 7 + ) this stands to the entire 
poem. Trace the successive subjects treated, and their logical 
connection. What is gained by inverting the first sentence? Note 
the use of figurative expression (see p. 10 + ). Listen to the lines, one 
by one. At what point does the musical quality become more 
noticeable? What in the subject at that point calls for heightened 
emotional expression? 

Is the imitation of pagan invocations in good taste in a poem 
so peculiarly Christian? Is the imitation well executed? To what 
in the former do Sinai, Horeb, Siloa's brook, correspond? 

27-49. In what relation does this stand to the first book of 
Paradise Lost? Read aloud the closing passage, beginning " Him 
the Almighty Power." Note the distribution of accents at the be- 
ginning and at the end, and show the purpose of such distribution. 
What consonant sounds are especially suggestive? Is the sentence 
made long for a special purpose? What class of words has been 
used in its construction? 

50-75. Describe this scene in your own words and in some sys- 
tematic order, e.g. beginning with the roof. Compare your order 
with Milton's. What principle of arrangement did he follow? 
Critics have said that in lines 73 and 74 Milton was simply trying 



NOTES. 233 

to outdo Virgil, who places Tartarus twice as far down as Earth. 
Was there any independent reason for choosing the ratio thrice ? 

76-191. Examine the analysis of Satan's speech on page 8. 
What order would the divisions of Beelzebub's speech naturally 
follow? Test your theory by making an outline of his speech. 
What difference of spirit do the speeches show? What double 
end does Satan's second speech serve? Group into systematic 
form the elements of Satan's character as exhibited in his two 
speeches, and compare them with Milton's previous description of 
his qualities. Are the description and the speeches consistent? 

Why should Satan's opening sentence be disjointed? Lines 109, 
no have been considered obscure because it is uncertain to what 
words the phrase "that glory" refers. Is the thought in the 
speaker^ s mind obscure, either to himself or to his hearer? Is 
there any logical reason for his incompleteness of expression ? Why 
does Satan refer to God in the terjus that he does? Listen to the 
metrical effect of lines 157 and 158. How many natural '=>\.xqs'=>qs 
in 157? Is the movement here hastened or retarded? Is this in 
harmony with the contents of the passage ? with the state of mind 
of the speaker? What artistic contrast in the quality of the lines 
from 169 to 191? What is the prevailing tone of Beelzebub's 
reply? Is he, then, with pertinence called "bold" in line 127? 

What general truths do we find nobly and concisely expressed in 
these speeches? 

192-241. What kind of composition is exemplified in this pas- 
sage? How does Milton intensify the images of Satan and of the 
land on which he alights (104, 105)? What motive for inverting 
the normal order of the sentence beginning with 203? Observe 
the suggestiveness of each detail in the illustration of the Leviathan. 
Is there illustrative pertinence in the expressions slumbering, foam, 
pilot, night invests the sea, scaly rind ? Critics have said that Mil- 
ton's similes are continued beyond the point of resemblance which 
he aimed to bring out. In this simile has he allowed his mind to 
wander from the subject in hand, and introduced description for its 
own sake? Apply the same critical method to the examination of 
the simile of the volcano. In lines 210+ note the first step 



234 PARADISE LOST. 

towards fulfilling the promise made in line 26. What special object 
in placing this "justification" where it is? 

242-282. Formal analysis must always fail to reveal the secret of 
the finest poetry. This magnificent speech of Satan should be read 
again and again until its spirit and its grandeur have impressed 
themselves upon the consciousness by their own inherent power. 
This speech exemplifies in the highest degree what is meant by 
creative imagiiiatioti ; for in composing it Milton for the time being 
must have shared imaginatively Satan's very life and emotions. 
Note especially the two generalizations that link Satan's experience 
with that of humanity. Compare the first and the last sentence, 
and trace the underlying unity in the entire speech. 

283-313. Note the constant alternation of description and dia- 
logue. How many similes do you observe ? Is there any special 
fitness in thus crowding one image upon another here? Milton's 
use of impressive-sounding proper names is very skilful. Test by 
reading aloud the effect of those here used. Why is the synecdoche 
(see p. 11) in line 286 more expressive than the name of the object 
itself would be? In what different ways does the shield under the 
circumstances described resemble the moon, seen at evening, through 
optic glass, in Valdarno ? 

314-330. Listen to the effect of the open vowels and the liquids 
in the first sentence. Note the ingenuity with which Satan appeals 
to different emotions in his hearers. Compare the length of this 
speech with that of the previous ones. Why the difference? Is the 
expression of the thought full or condensed? Declaim the opening 
and closing sentences, noting their explosive force, and judging the 
possibility of making "all the hollow deep of Hell" resound with 
them. 

331-355. Another crowding of images. Again trace resem- 
blances, and point out the pertinence of thus crowding them. 
Especially observe the value of individual words, like pitchy, zvarp- 
ing, Sultan, Danaw (for Danube). 

356-391. A passage of the utmost importance, but requiring con- 
centrated attention owing to the novelty of the thought to modern 
minds. What fact in human history does Milton attempt to ex- 



NOTES. 235 

plain? What fact in God's dealings with man? What qualifications 
for leadership among the devils are implied? 

392-521. This catalogue of leaders is in imitation of a similar one 
in Homer's Iliad. Endeavor to feel the impression of the number 
and importance of these leaders which Milton tried to convey by 
this long roll of high-sounding names and thick-recurring incidents 
of insolent and gross crimes against God, Observe the alternation 
between indignant reprobation of the Jews for their vices, and 
sneering contempt for their folly in being corrupted. Note the 
suggestions conveyed in Milton's epithets — bleating gods, middle 
air, Saturn old, etc. How many natural divisions of the air, based 
on its relation to man, might a Ptolemaist be led to conceive to 
exist? What in Belial's character makes it fitting that he should 
come last? The places mentioned should be located once upon 
the map (p. 87), although a detailed study of the passage is not 
recommended. 

522-618. Note that this is the first extended example of simple 
narration, that is, of events 7-apidly succeeding one another. Mark 
the art by which impressions of color, of motion, of numljers, of 
different qualities of sound are conveyed. Trace the different 
military evolutions from "assembly" to "general orders," and 
observe how military technicalities (" serried ranks," " ordered " 
spears, " files," " attention ") can be transmuted into poetry. What 
artifices, previously exemplified, are employed in 576-587, and for 
what purpose? 

6ig-66g. Do you note any resemblance between the opening 
of this speech and that of a previous one? What fear in Satan's 
mind leads to the remarks in lines 626-642? What shrewdness, 
therefore, in his comments on their recent defeat? What tendency 
of human nature is exemplified in line 642? Note the oratorical 
art in the hyperbole of line 633, in the sophistry of line 643, in the 
emotional character of the closing sentence of the speech. Observe, 
again, in lines 663-669 Milton's power of word-painting, and test 
the quality of the lines by comparison with preceding ones of the 
same type. 

670-751. Is there an intimate connection in thought between 



236 PARADISE LOST. 

the speech of Satan and the action of the " brigail "? Wliat is the 
subject of this entire passage? Does it exliibit the orderly treat- 
ment heretofore invariably adhered to? Is this treatment in har- 
mony with the subject-matter? Compare the quality of these 
similes with those preceding, as regards their intrinsic beauty, their 
power to render vivid your mental image of the scene depicted, and 
their originality. Select the passages especially musical in quality, 
or notable for their graphic force. Mark the accuracy of the lan- 
guage, as in the phrase, " metallic ore, the work of sulphur." Is 
the image of opening a wound in the hill and extracting ribs of gold 
a pleasing one? Is it fitting? Follow with the utmost care the 
operations of each crew of workmen, and make a diagram (vertical 
section) of the scene of operations. Make a list of words effective 
for their connotation, like cre^v above. Is there reason to assume 
that Milton represents Mammon and Mulciber as the same person? 
752-798. What especially notable feature in the simile of the 
bees? Where has Milton previously prepared the mind for the 
change in size of the angels? Why did he not reduce to pygmies 
all the angels? 

General Study of Book I. 

a. Prepare to write an essay upon Satan by (i) gathering into 
logical and connected form the descriptions of his personal appear- 
ance, and the direct and indirect evidences of his character and his 
mental and physical condition, that are distributed through the first 
book, (2) observing the variety and the significance of the different 
titles applied to him, and (3) scrutinizing his qualifications for lead- 
ership among devils and domination over man. 

/'. Prepare to write about the Fallen Angels, making definite in 
your mind their nature, — their powers, their limitations, their ap- 
pearance, and their mcntai habits. Determine whether they were 
immortal — indestructible. How could they suffer from wounds? 
How long would they remain in the form of pygmies? What 
would determine their normal form (see lines 679-681)? 

c. Prepare to describe Hell as Afilfon conceived it. treating its 



NOTES. 237 

origin, purpose, appearance, topography Cconstruct a rnapy, and 
general features. 

t/. Structure. Review the order of thought and of treatn^ient 
throughout the book. Has it unity of subject? of style? of treat- 
ment? Is it logically progressive? Are there minor climaxes of 
interest? Is there an ultimate supreme climax? How is interest in 
the succeeding books excited? 

e. Milton' z Diction. Group into an essay such elements as you 
have noticed, giving illustrative examples of his 

(a) Variety of expression. 

{b) Causative, archaic, passive, negative, uses of words. 

(^c) Latinisms. 

{d) Coinage of words. 

(<?) Characteristic sentence forms. 

{f ) Employment of Biblical phraseology. 

Book 1 1. 

1-42. Compare the inverted form of the opening sentence with 
that of the opening sentence of Book I. What poetical purpose 
does the inversion serve? What is indicated as the general subject 
of this Vjook? Is Satan's speech eloquent? stimulating? crafty? 
Observe the oratorical value of inverting the sentence beginning 
with line 18. What basis in fact for each of Satan's claims 
to leadership — "just right," "free choice," "law," "counsel," 
"achievement"? What logical flaw in his claims to greater ad- 
vantage in a renewed fight, from the absence of discord? How 
does he conceal this flaw? What elements in his character does 
the speech betray? 

43-389. This episode must be examined not only from the point 
of view of general literary criticism, but also as a specimen of the 
art of debate. What danger in making it long? How can monot- 
ony be avoided? Are the speakers representatives of different 
types of people? Are their speeches in harmony with their char- 
acters as described by Milton? Analyze the order of thought in 
Moloch's speech (statement of opinion, logical argument, persua- 



238 PARADISE LOST. 

sion). Compare with this the order in Belial's. What aesthetic 
purpose in varying the order? What reason based upon the char- 
acters and motives of the two speakers? What difference in the 
positions taken by Mammon and by Belial? How do their argu- 
ments betray their characters? In what do they agree? Select 
the passages intended to convince and those intended to persuade. 
Discriminate between statements of ascertained fact and statements 
of personal opinions. Make an outline of the structure of Beel- 
zebub's speech. Why does he begin with an appeal to emotion 
rather than to reason? Examine those of his statements which 
aim to destroy the hopes that Mammon had raised. Apply them 
to the hopes which he himself holds out to the angels, and observe 
how absolutely contradictory are the two parts of his speech. How 
was he able to delude the angels? Compare his opening and his 
closing sentences. Why should we expect that his sarcasm would 
have more effect than that of the other speakers? Find his specific 
answer to the arguments of each of his predecessors. 

390-476. What purpose has Beelzebub in describing the sup- 
posed attractions of the new World? How does he contradict his 
own assertion made in the early part of his previous speech? What 
artful purpose has he in magnifying the dangers of the journey pro- 
posed? What purpose has Satan in adding to the terrifying 
picture? What purpose in his parting directions? Note the ex- 
pressive descriptive phrases, " unessential night," " abortive gulf," 
etc. What motives led Satan to wish to go to the new World? 

476-520. What kind of composition is here exemplified? Select 
the passages notable for force, beauty, elevated thought. Test the 
quality of the ornament. 

521-628. Determine the subject of this passage. What powers 
were exercised in its production? What object did Milton have in 
attributing to the angels such varied tastes? What practical and 
aesthetic purposes does the passage subserve? Note how the style 
is varied with the character of the scene described. Select the ono- 
matopoetic hnes (see p. 15). Make a list of the kinds of tempera- 
ment exemplified among the angels. Add to your former map of 
Hell from what you have now learned. 



NOTES. 239 

629-879. These lines contain the famous Allegory of Sin and 
Death. An allegory expresses facts in the life of man's spirit by a 
series of symbolic pictures of objects and events in the physical 
world. Each character in the allegory should be studied by itself, 
that the mind may be trained to the perception and comprehension 
of this important type of composition. Sin as a person is half 
beautiful, half hideous; what is the corresponding truth about sin 
as a quality of actions? Sin, the woman, is mother of Death, the 
monster; what corresponding fact in the spiritual world? What in 
the realm of ethics do the dogs represent? In this manner, scru- 
tinize the entire passage, determining the significance of the " mortal 
sting," the " dart," the " crown," the time and manner of Sin's birth, 
the " left side," the first repulsion and later attraction of the angels, 
the " key," the inability of Sin to close the gates, etc. Is the entire 
episode pleasing? Is it forceful? Is its presence here warranted 
by its importance to the rest of the poem? 

Test the similes as before. Do they equal in graphic power those 
in Book I.? Select the onomatopoetic lines in the description of 
the person of Sin, in the description of the combatants, in the flight 
of Sin before Death, in the description of Satan's speech to Sin and 
of its effect, in the opening of Hell gates. How many natural ac- 
cents are employed in describing the opening of the gates, in the 
sentence beginning " On a sudden " (879) ? How many gates flew 
open? Select the expressive epithets and other words chosen for 
their quality as well as for their meaning, like "goblin," " deform," 
" maw." Contrast Satan's speech to Death with that to Sin : what 
qualifications for leadership (mentioned by Beelzebub) does he here 
exhibit? Why is Sin's speech (850 + ) characteristic, and what parts 
of it are symbolic ? 

890-927. Describe Chaos in scientific terms. By what devices 
does Milton seek to convey an impression of its size? of its turbu- 
lence? of its relation to the rest of the universe? What hints of 
its character has he previously given ? 

928-1055. Make a map of Satan's path through Chaos. What 
dangers does he encounter? What qualities does he exhibit. 
Compare his manner of approaching Death with his manner 



240 PARADISE LOST. 

towards Chaos. Why the difference? To what feeUng in Chaos 
does he appeal? What in the Anarch's reply shows the appeal to 
have been shrewd? Note the slight supplement to the allegory of 
Sin and Death, and interpret it ethically. Which similes are 
good, which poor? Note the onomatopoeia in the description of 
Satan's fall, of his attempts to fly, of the obstacles that impede 
him, of the sounds he hears, of his easier flight. The passage 
contains much expressive writing, and should be scrutinized with 
great care. 

What is to be the subject of the succeeding book as indicated 
by lines 1034 to 1055? 

General Study of Book II. 

a. Prepare to write upon The Debate in Hell, treating of its form, 
as modelled upon English parliamentary procedure; of its partici- 
pants, as offering an opportunity for the delineation of character; 
of its speeches, as examples of the art of oratory ; of its importance 
to the plot of the poem. 

b. Add to the material which you have previously prepared what- 
ever further information you have gained in regard to the character 
of Satan, and whatever acts you have observed corroborative of the 
opinion previously formed. Especially note, for later verification, 
any indications of a tendency to change or development in the 
character. 

c. Amphfy your treatment of the subject " Milton's Conception of 
Hell," employing the materials found in Book II., and enlarging 
your map to include the regions not mentioned in the previous 
book. 

d. Prepare to write on Satan's Journey to Earth, treating its 
purpose (real and pretended), its difficulties and dangers (apparent 
and actual), its various episodes, its importance to the plot of the 
poem, its dramatic value as a portion of an epic poem. 

e. Apply to the Structure of Book II. the same tests as were 
suggested in the case of Book I. (General Study, ^.), and compare 
the two books as regards their opening and closing passages, the 



NOTES. 241 

number and variety of distinct episodes that they contain, the 
proportion of each devoted to description, to action, to conver- 
sation, etc. 

Book III. 

1-75. Why is a second invocation now appropriate? Where 
in this do we find echoes of the former one? Is the personal refer- 
ence in good taste? How is its introduction justified, if at all? 
What connection in thought between the introduction and the 
opening passage of the narrative (lines 56 + )? 

416-554. This passage sets forth a conception popular with the 
mediaeval world, of a region designed for the abode of the souls of 
persons undeserving of either Hell or Heaven. Make a list of the 
types of persons deemed by Milton thus characterless. What special 
hostile animus does he betray? Trace the details in the similes of 
the vulture and of the scout. 

555-653. What type of composition is here predominant? On 
what artistic means does Milton chiefly rely for effect ? What lines 
are reminiscent of a previous passage? Note the way in which 
science is made contributory to poetry by imaginative treatment. 
What scientific theories are here alluded to? Note the words ren- 
dered poetic by slight changes of form, \<kt Jledge (line 627). The 
description of the surface of the sun, and of the disguise of Satan, 
are examples of " coloring " in poetry. Study them, and train the 
mind to observe similar passages. 

654-742. Is Satan's speech equal in interest to those in the 
previous books? Is its theme one to fire the poetic imagination? 
Notice how many phrases in it are unnecessary to the expression 
of Satan's inquiry — i.e. are added by Milton for other motives than 
those proper to Satan's character and mission. Note the generali- 
zation upon life that follows, expressed with the aid of the Personi- 
fication of abstract ideas. Is this device pleasing? (It has ceased 
to be employed with frequency, perhaps because too generally 
adopted by inferior writers in the past.) Test Uriel's speech as 
you did Satan's. Note how the extraneous matter introduced 
creates interest in the subject of Book VII. What references to 
R 



242 PARADISE LOST. 

other parts of the story of the poem have been previously made in 
such a way as to create anticipation and interest in subsequent 
books? Compare line 742 with the closing lines of the preceding 
books. 

Book IV. 

1-113. What are the qualities which have made this speech 
famous? Study its logical structure, its emotional power, its force 
or beauty of expression, its betrayal of the inmost character of the 
speaker, its rhythmic movement, its solemn music of diction. What 
great moral truth does Satan here assert for the second time? It 
is interesting to know that this speech is the earliest written portion 
of the poem of which we have knowledge. It was composed as 
a speech in a drama before Milton had determined upon the epic 
form for his great work. (See p. 90.) 

Book VI. 

189-245. The subject of the book is the war in Heaven; of what 
sub-topic does this passage treat? What poetic quality is most 
apparent in it? Note the use of unfamiliar, curious-sounding 
words, and of unusual sentence structure, and determine the poet's 
reason for the irregularities. Listen to the significant accents in 
line 200. Notice the lavish use of hyperbole (exaggerated state- 
ment). Notice the alliteration in lines 213, 228, and test whether 
the sound thus repeated has value in emphasizing the sense. Ex- 
amine the epithets with which the passage abounds, and estimate 
their share in the effectiveness of the description. 

245-296. Is the dialogue natural and probable? Was it more 
probable in the judgment of Milton's contemporaries than in ours? 
Compare it with that held with Death in Book II. 

297-352. Determine critically whether this combat rises " to the 
highth of this great argument." Consider the nature, powers, char- 
acters, of the combatants, and the state of expectancy that Milton 
has purposely aroused in his readers: has he satisfied this feeling? 
Has he belittled Satan in our sight by any words in this passage? 



NOTES. 



243 



Select the powerful passages, those which stir the imagination or 
echo the sense of the passage. Is the closing explanation neces- 
sary or desirable at this point in the narrative? 

524-634. Is there any aesthetic purpose in prefixing to this pas- 
sage descriptive of Satan's trickery lines of the quality of those in 
524-529 ? Test the fitness of Zophiel's speech for a warning by read- 
ing it aloud, as if to a host. Is it thrilling in tone, in movement, in 
its contents? The episode that follows has been condemned as un- 
dignified, and unworthy of Milton. The attempts at humor in the 
punning remarks of Satan and Belial are said to be clumsy and 
labored. Determine whether this charge is well founded. If they 
are in your judgment admissible as irony, determine whether they 
are suited to the characters to whom they are assigned, and to the 
circumstances. Note the word-painting in lines 584 + , and mark 
how words which do not often appear in poetry because of their 
unpleasing connotation, here become serviceable for that very 
reason. 

634-679. Where, in Books I., II., and VI., has Milton prepared 
the reader's mind for this episode? Why did he choose the follow- 
ing words : situate, glimpse, seated, projuontories, dolorous, purest, 
jaculation? Note the alliteration in lines 671 and 672. For what 
two reasons is it effective here? 

681-745. This is an example of many dialogues between the 
Deity and other speakers, distributed through the poem, which 
Milton introduces as a means of conveying to the world his 
thoughts about the theological subjects most agitated in the 
seventeenth century, and thus of justifying " the ways of God to 
men." What theological conceptions as to the character and 
relations of God and Messiah does he here make prominent? Is 
the passage interesting as poetry? 

746-800, Milton approaches the climax to which the whole 
book has been leading. He must endow the Messiah with all the 
noblest gifts in appearance and in action, so that his figure shall 
outshine in our imagination all others, and all achievements hitherto 
described shall fade into insignificance in comparison with the one 
now to be accomplished. Can you form a distinct mental image of 



244 PARADISE LOST. 

his chariot? Can yoxx feel its beauty and grandeur? Whence does 
he draw the materials for this picture? How, in Hnes 781 +, does 
he belittle the recent achievements of the rebel angels, and why? 

800-892. Is the address of Messiah worthy of the occasion? 
If Milton fails in any respect in his speeches, in what does the 
failure consist? Does the combat satisfy expectation? How were 
the angels defeated? Listen for the lines whose "sound echoes 
the sense." Especially note the metrical construction of the clos- 
ing line in the description of the fall (866), and determine the 
purpose of the irregularity therein. 

What aesthetic principle is exemplified in the last paragraph? 
What figures of speech and other poetical devices are used in line^ 
867, 868, 876, 887 ? Note the appropriateness of the closing sen 
tence of the narrative. 

Book VIL 

191-242. What quality must the poet make most prominent in 
describing the act of creation? By what means does he secure this 
quality in this passage ? What is the aesthetic effect of having the 
address of Messiah to Chaos so brief? Is the conception of winged 
chariots self-impelled dignified and poetic? Is the conception of 
the golden compasses for marking the boundary the same ? What 
lines are especially impressive? What lines are reminiscent of pre- 
vious ones? How does Milton avoid repeating himself in various 
references to the same thing? 

243-568. Read the first chapter of Genesis. Determine what 
poetical qualities must be given to the description of each creative 
act there mentioned, and judge whether Milton has thus differ- 
entiated them. Observe what an opportunity is here offered for 
the poetic rendering of color, sound, motion, and other physical 
phenomena. Select the effective epithets, the onomatopoetic 
lines, the beautiful figurative expressions, the notable metrical 
departures from the normal line, and determine the aesthetic 
reason for each. Are there any examples of tawdry adornment 
in the description of the third day's work? in that of the fifth 



NOTES. 245 

day? Is the passage in regard to the creation of man adequate to 
the importance of the sul)ject, as compared with the previous ones? 
What subject dominates Milton's mind as he reaches this point in 
the narrative? Note the effective cHmax, leading up to the subject 
of the whole book, *' his six days' work, a World ! " 

Book X. 

504-545. This passage is an especially noteworthy example of 
onomatopoeia (see p. 15). Select the lines whose sound suggests 
form, motion, repulsive quality, or the sound described. Is the 
conception here presented a dignified one? Is its presentation 
at this moment powerful? For what were the followers of Satan 
being punished? 

GENERAL STUDY OF THE SELECTIONS. 

Structure; — Review the order in which Milton has introduced 
his minor subjects, and determine why this order is dramatically 
more effective than the normal chronological one. Observe the 
artful alternation of different styles and types of composition. 
Read twenty lines at intervals of about a hundred lines, and de- 
termine Milton's favorite type of variation from the normal sen- 
tence structure. Classify the different characteristic variations that 
you have observed. 

Diction. — From what tongue is the language chiefly drawn? 
From what literary work? What variations from the normal forms 
of participles have you noticed? Make a list of uncommon words 
used by Milton. Make a list of words used in an unusual sense. 
What poetic reason leads him to give words unusual meanings? 
What figures of speech predominate? Does he rely more on the 
beauty of his adornment, on the interest of his matter, or on the 
music of his verse? 

Matter. — a. Complete the study of Satan's character, along 
the lines previously indicated, employing the incidents detailed in 
the later books to verify or correct previous impressions. Determine 



246 PARADISE LOST. 

whether the character is consistent with itself, is in harmony with 
the popular conception of the Devil, is fitted to be the central figure 
in a poem, is interesting. 

Topics for Original Research. 

I. The Poets' Conceptions of Hell. Yox Homer's conception read 
the eleventh book of the Odyssey, for Virgil's read the sixth book of 
the ALneid. There are numerous good translations of both works. 
For Dante's conception read the first part of the Divine Comedy 
(called the Infe^'no) in Carlyle's or Norton's translation, and if this 
is not fairly intelligible, consult the introduction to Longfellow's 
translation of the Divine Comedy. With these compare Milton's, 
as determined by your own reading, and then compare the concep- 
tion of Milton's Hell presented in Masson's edition of Milton's 
works, 

H. The Character of Satan. Trace in the Bible the sources of 
various elements in Milton's conception of Satan, seeking in a con- 
cordance the various names and epithets applied to him throughout 
the poem. Then read Marlowe's Doctor Fanstus., to obtain some 
idea of the popular notion of the Devil in Milton's time. If pos- 
sible, read in the Junian Ccedmon the parts of the book of Genesis 
dealing with Satan (the translation is by Morley). Consult the 
article on this subject in the Cambridge Milton., edited by Verity, 
and studies of the character in Milton literature generally. Deter- 
mine what elements (if any) were original with Milton. 

HL An Historical Setting. Make a list of Milton's contem- 
poraries of note in religion, learning, art, and public life generally, 
arranged with a graphical representation of the limits of their lives, 
so as to show how these stood in relation to his own. In the same 
manner treat the important events of the seventeenth century, thus 
enabling yourself to determine the relation in which Milton stood 
toward them, as a curious student, as an active participant, or as an 
impartial observer and critic. Especially study the character of the 
Puritans and the nature of the revolution wrought by them, as 
described in Greene's Short History of the English People, Gar- 



NOTES. 247 

diner's Puritan Revolution., Macaulay's Essay on Milton, etc. Thus 
learn to see in this work, as in all great works, the expression of the 
vital elements of the age which produced it. 

IV. A Study of Versification. Ascertain the names and the 
characteristics of the verse structure employed in the great world 
epics — the Iliad, the ^neid, the Divine Comedy., Orlando Furi- 
oso, The Faerie Queene. Find out, if possible, why each type is 
peculiarly adapted to the language in which it is employed. Trace 
the history of the l)la7ik verse form, in Italian and in English poetry. 
Study Masson's article on Milton's versification in the Introduction 
to his edition of the poems, read Lowell's criticism of that article in 
his essay on Milton, and test a large number of lines for yourself. 
Compare the later part of the poem with the earlier, and determine 
whether Milton became less strict in his adherence to the norm as 
he progressed in his work. Count the number of feminine endings, 
of initial trochaic feet, of unmusical lines, etc. (For an illustration 
of this kind of investigation, see Dowden's Shakspere Primer, 
chapter IV., paragraph 29.) 

V. Milton''s Debt to his Felloxv Poets. Take any elaborately an- 
notated edition of Milton's Poems, like Masson's or Verity's, and 
make a special study of the parallelisms noted between Milton's 
work and that of earlier authors. Determine whether he has bor- 
rowed the thought only, the expression only, or both ; whether he 
has so modified them as to give them fresh force or beauty, or has 
applied them to a distinctly new use. Thus test to what degree 
he was an original writer. 



MINOR POEMS. 



INTRODUCTION TO THE MINOR POEMS. 

Their History. 

The lyric poems of Milton were among the earlier fruits of 
his genius. In them he was consciously testing his powers 
and strengthening his poetic faculties for the more ambitious 
work which was to be the product of his maturer years. Yet 
they bear few of the marks of experiments, but rather exhibit 
the characteristics of carefully planned and finished works. 
They are worthy of serious study, not only for this reason, but 
also because they are remarkably varied in character and ex- 
emplify some of the most important literary types, and because 
each poem stands in a significant relation to the circumstances 
of the poet's life and thought at the time it was written. 

Thus, it is significant that Milton's first outburst of high 
and sustained poetic expression, the Hymn on the Morning of 
Chrisfs Nativity, should have been conceived on Christmas 
morning in the year that he reached manhood, and that he 
should have chosen for his theme the advent of Christ upon 
the earth to begin that work of redemption which inspired 
the great epics of Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. It 
is not without significance that D Allegro and // Penseroso 
should have been written at a time when Milton was ponder- 
ing the course of life which he should pursue, with the fullest 
consciousness that a wise decision regarding the conduct of 
life was a duty laid upon him by God, of supreme moment to 
his eternal future, not to be settled without '' long choosing." 
So Lycidas and Comus, although called into being by special 
circumstances, served as a medium for the expression of the 

251 



252 INTRODUCTION. 

poet's mood in the years when his scrutiny of the social, 
religious, and political world about him was leading him to 
adopt a tone of adverse criticism, and his conviction of his 
own high calling to " assert eternal Providence " in an age of 
indifference and irreligion was becoming daily more intense. 

The form, no less than the themes and the spirit, of these 
poems bears a distinct relation to the circumstances of their 
production. At the time the Hymn was written (1629), Milton 
had been pursuing his studies for four years, for the most part 
steadily resisting any temptation to produce crude and imma- 
ture verses, awaiting with patience the work of the " mellow- 
ing year" upon his intellect and spirit. He had abundant 
faith in himself as a poet inspired of God, and he was content 
to let the inward power become slowly manifest, to remain 
silent until the inward light should irradiate his mind and the 
inner force compel utterance. Meanwhile he was busily stor- 
ing his mind with the ideas and expressions of the great poets 
of antiquity, delving among the treasures of the classics, and 
familiarizing himself with the literary forms employed by the 
masters of the art of poetry. 

It is essential that the student of Milton's poetry should 
endeavor to gain a clear conception of the conditions of intel- 
lectual life which prevailed among the scholars of his day. 
The Renaissance movement had had the effect of displacing 
the study of formal logic and metaphysics from the dominat- 
ing position which it had held during the Middle Ages, in 
favor of the study of the Greek and Latin classics. This 
study now almost wholly absorbed the attention of the stu- 
dents at Oxford and Cambridge. Not only to read these 
classics with freedom, but also to converse in the dead lan- 
guages with the same fluency as in the mother tongue, to 
master their finest subtleties of expression and their profoundest 
depths of esoteric meaning, to form habits of thought moulded 
by constant intercourse with the writers that had made Greek 



INTRODUCTION. 253 

literature the model of elegant and precise expression, — such 
were the aims of University students in Milton's day. 

The Pindaric Odes, with their triumphant celebration of 
victories won through the exercise of self-restraint, persistent 
effort, and piety ; the fiery or tender lyrics of Alcaeus ; the 
grim tragedies of ^schylus, Sophocles, and Euripides ; the 
lively comedies of Aristophanes ; and the works of their 
Latin successors and imitators ; — these formed the staple of 
intellectual training. In particular, by the study of Plato, by 
pondering over his mystic doctrines of the immortality of the 
soul, of the presence of spiritual beings in all the realms and 
processes of Nature, of the circling spheres of the physical 
universe, the student was habituated to employ in his thought 
of the world terms and concepts characteristic of the scholar 
as distinguished from the man of afifairs. This severe train- 
ing was, however, supplemented by studies in lighter themes. 
In the works of Theocritus, Bion, Moschus, Virgil, he learned 
to contemplate Nature in the aspect which she presents to 
the simple minds of rustics ; and in the works of Ovid, Horace, 
and Catullus, he touched the lighter and more joyous side of 
existence. 

The fruits of this course of study are clearly evident in the 
Hyfnn, composed when but four of Milton's seven years of 
University life were completed. They are equally evident in 
V Allegro and its successors, all composed at Horton, a village 
near Windsor, whither Milton retired in 1632 for five years of 
private study. Here, in a village where ready communication 
with the metropolis tempered the native simplicity of English 
rural life, Milton had no incentive to sever the academic from 
the idyllic in his writings ; for not only did he continue his 
reading of the classics, but he also pursued the study of the 
Italian and French literatures, with their abundance of pas- 
toral compositions, and when he strayed abroad for air and 
exercise, he could hardly avoid gazing upon Nature through 



254 INTRODUCTION. 

the eyes of the poets whose works he was engaged in mas- 
tering. 

Seventeen Latin and fourteen English poems had been the 
fruits of his creative activity while in the University. These 
were almost all brief, many of them belonging to the class of 
occasional verse ; only one, if we except one or two sonnets, 
had in it the elements of genius. All were evidently tenta- 
tive flights, in which the poet was testing the strength of his 
pinions, and finding them insufficient to lift him far from the 
ground. But in Horton, while the compositions are fewer in 
number, the flight is no longer wavering and uncertain, but 
high and sustained. The lyric quality of the Horton poems 
is unmistakably fine, although not sufficiently so to satisfy the 
severe self-criticism of the poet, who regretted that so many 
fruits must be plucked " before their season due.''' 

But that season never came. Before another lyric was 
essayed, came the blighting sirocco of the Great Rebellion, 
and in the hot breath of war the lyric blossoms faded '" time- 
lessly," so that occasional sonnets form Milton^'s sole poetic 
utterances in English from 1637, the date of the Lycidas, until 
he began to work continuously upon his great epic in 1657. 

Lyj'ic Types. 

Each of the poems in this volume should be viewed as 
exemplifying a distinctive type of literary production, yet all 
have a certain kinship, in so far as they partake of a common 
lyric quality. From time immemorial, poetry has been classi- 
fied under the head of lyric, epic, and dramatic (sung, chanted 
or spoken, acted). Students of Poetics, following out the 
suggestion contained in the derivation of these words, have 
classed as technical epic poems all those which clearly aim at 
information, description, philosophic reflection, instruction, or 
narration of events ; and they have recognized in the first 
class the predominance of emotion, in the second that oi 



INTRODUCTION. 255 

intellect, and in the third that of the expression of char- 
acter through conduct. The literary world, however, has 
parted company with the theorists, in that it tends to restrict 
the use of the word " epic " to members of that narrow class 
of " grand epic,'' of which Paradise Lost is an example. It 
recognizes that in such poems as L'' Allegro, \\\\qyq. the descrip- 
tion of attractive scenes is apparently the chief feature, the 
poefs real aim is not to impress the 7mnd of the reader with 
the facts in the picture, but to move his sensibilities with the 
emotion which the scene has roused in himself; and it rightly 
conceives such poems to be essentially lyric in character. 
Even Cojmis,yN\\\Q\-\ is indisputably dramatic in form, is almost 
wholly undramatic in quality. The characters utter disserta- 
tions on virtue and vice, they narrate what has happened and 
even what is happening, they explain and describe instead of 
simply presenting themselves as living agents before the 
observation of the audience ; and when one scrutinizes their 
utterances, he discovers the explanation of these facts to be 
that Milton's native instinct and impulse at this time were 
essentially toward lyric expression, and that consequently 
each bit of description or of moralizing is surcharged with the 
emotional element, and the whole drama is made up of a series 
of lyric passages. It seems therefore desirable, in the study 
of Milton's minor poems, to concentrate the attention upon 
those features which are most strongly in contrast with the 
characteristic features in Paradise Lost, and to study them as 
examples of the pure lyric and its closely related forms. 

The theory of the genesis of a primitive lyric might be 
set forth somewhat as follows : At the moment of inception 
of a lyric poem, the mind of its author is taken posses- 
sion of by some conception which rouses his enthusiasm 
and demands artistic expression in musical form. He seizes 
his lyre, and pours forth his verses in a torrent of fiery or 
melting song, which is guided in its course by the musical 



256 INTRODUCTION. 

accompaniment of chords stmck from time to time on the 
instrument, until the passion is spent, the demand for expres- 
sion appeased. The themes, therefore, with which lyric poetry 
deals, are naturally those of love, of martial ardor, of patriot- 
ism, of mirth, of religious exaltation. In treatment it demands, 
above all things, unity ; that is, the stanzas, whether few or 
many, must all combine to give expression to a single domi- 
nant emotion or idea. Furthermore, it should be primarily 
subjective ; that is, the poem should be written for the purpose 
of expressing what the author himself feels, — it should be a 
means of self-revelation. Again, it should be brief and intense. 
If the emotion be capable of being sustained unfalteringly, or 
of being diluted, through many pages of verse, it is either too 
massive or not sufficiently intense to inspire a genuine lyric, and 
some other poetic form is manifestly preferable . The emotional 
character of the lyric further necessitates that its language 
shall be highly ornamented and figurative, because the human 
mind, in a state of excitement, inevitably busies itself in bring- 
ing ideas into novel relations, in constructing fresh images for 
familiar objects, in searching out fanciful analogies between 
things essentially unlike. And finally, the form and the 
expression must be rhythmical and melodious. The grand 
rhythm is generally obtained through identical stanzaic divi- 
sions, the minor rhythms through specific verse forms within 
the stanza, and the still subtler waves of rhythm through the 
minute variations from the norm of the verse, which justify 
themselves to the ear, although they defy formal analysis. 

Thus, in reading these poems, the student should be pre- 
pared to observe, besides the universal poetic qualities of 
beauty of form and of conception, elevation of thought and 
spiritual insight, the specific lyric qualities of emotional 
intensity, unity of conception, brevity of treatment, profusion 
and splendor of adornment, and subjectivity of attitude on the 
part of the author. 



INTRODUCTION TO THE HYMN ON THE 
NATIVITY. 

Gejieral Characte7'istics. 

The Hymn may be reckoned the first fully opened flower of 
Milton's poetic springtime. It was produced, evidently with- 
out overmuch labor, at Christmas time in the year 1629, when 
he was but two weeks past his twenty-first birthday ; and it 
seems to have been conceived as a Christmas offering to the 
Deity who had brought him safely to manhood's estate, and 
to whose service his poetic gifts w'ere to be wholly dedicated. 
In its unique form, in its elastic freedom regarding both choice 
of epithet and method of treating the theme, in the use of un- 
conventional epithet, and in the elasticity of the versification, 
it would appear to be the production of a master-workman 
rather than of a prentice hand. 

It would be difficult to find a poem that would better exem- 
plify certain of the characteristics of a lyric poem than does 
the HyfHii on the Nativity. The religious fervor of the young 
poet informs every stanza of the poem ; the pictures are 
painted for their dynamic emotional value only ; the language 
is adorned with "rich and various gems" of expression; the 
sentiment is elevated ; the metrical form is graceful and har- 
monious with the thought ; and the poem is prolonged only 
sufficiently to allow the wave of emotion to swell and recede 
through all its successive phases, from a state of happy antici- 
pation of the blessings soon to be received, through their 
realization in prophetic imagination, back to the state of 
peaceful calm that flows from communion with divine things, 
s 257 



2s8 INTRODUCTION TO 



Structure. 

The logical structure of the poem is interesting, but not 
intricate. Of the two parts, the Introduction and the Hymn 
proper, the first sets forth the reflections which have moved 
the poet to lyric expression, and the second contains the lyric 
outburst itself. In the Introduction, Milton shows how the 
thought of the infinite condescension shown by Christ in leav- 
ing "the courts of everlasting day" to "bring our great re- 
demption from above " moves his mind to gratitude, and how 
the memory of the behavior of the " star-led wizards " spurs 
him to emulate their action by laying some tribute before the 
" Son of Heaven's eternal King." The contemplation of the 
Nativity carries Milton through phases of emotion, the expres- 
sion of each of which constitutes one element in the structure 
of the Hymm The first is that of remorse and shame over 
the human guilt which makes necessary such a sacrifice as 
this ; the second is that x)f a sense of blessedness in the 
expected beneficent reign of Christ upon earth ; the third is 
a mood of constantly swelling exultation, as the magnitude of 
the honor conferred upon man and the mighty import of the 
event becomes more adequately realized, with its promise of 
the disappearance of sin on the one hand, and of error and 
ignorance (typified by the pagan gods) on the other ; with the 
reaction from this exalted prophetic strain comes the realization 
of the present actuality, and the mood changes to one of 
tenderness in the contemplation of the babe as yet hfelpless 
through his newly-accepted humanity, and dependent upon 
the care of his mother, even though attended by multitudes of 
" bright-harnessed angels." 

Metrical Form. 
In its metrical form the Hymn illustrates the wide freedom 
of choice which is allowed the lyric poet. A distinct verse 



HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 259 

structure, of course, is involved in the very conception of 
poetry. Rhyme, on the other hand, is so far from being essen- 
tial, that it is admitted to be foreign to the genius of the grand 
epic. It is, however, almost indispensable in a lyric, but the 
order of the rhyme is wholly a matter of choice with the poet. 
If the lyric contains more than a dozen lines, division into 
stanzas is the natural result, as in the Hymn. On the form of 
the stanza poets have exhausted all the resources of invention, 
the Italians and the French proving especially ingenious in 
constructing novel and pleasing stanza-forms, and the English 
being content to adopt these forms with slight variations. 
Thus the metrical units of the Hytiin are derived from Italian 
models. 

The favorite Italian stanza during the Middle Ages was that 
consisting of eight lines of iambic pentameter. The idea of 
this stanza was borrowed and employed extensively by Chaucer 
(1340- 1 400), but he introduced a radical and essentially poeti- 
cal modification, in his stanza called " Reine Royale." He 
reduced the number of lines from eight to seven, and adopted 
such a rhyme-order as to produce an intricate double symme- 
try. Thus, if the first four lines be taken by themselves, they 
are found to constitute a symmetrical, alternately rhymed group, 
of the type ^, b ; a^ b. Again, if the last four lines are con- 
sidered by themselves, they are likewise found to constitute a. 
symmetrical group, but consecutively rhymed, of the type b, 
b ; c, c. The fourth line, being common to both groups, has 
a rhyming counterpart in each group, and serves to bind the 
whole stanza into unity. Spenser (i 552-1 599) invented 
kindred forms with interlocked rhymes, and notably, the 
" Spenserian Stanza '"" employed in The Faerie Qiteene. This 
famous stanza consists of twin groups of four pentameter lines 
connected by a tie rhyme {a^ b; a, b ; b, c; b ; c), and a 
ninth line which repeats the last rhyme sound (r) and con- 
tains an additional foot. The effect of the extra length of the 



26o INTRODUCTION TO HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 

dosing line is to give an elegance, a dignity, and a completeness 
to the stanza which are unsurpassed in any other type. 

For the Introduction to the Hymn, Milton combined the 
most unique and poetical feature of Spenser's verse, the clos- 
ing hexameter, with the symmetrical rhyme-order of Chaucer, 
thus producing the stanza-form here exemplified : — 

"This is the month, and this the happy morn, (5 x a) 
Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, (5 x b) 
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, (5 x a) 
Our great redemption from above did bring ; (5 x b) 
For so the holy sages once did sing (5 x b) 
That he our deadly forfeit should release, (5 x c) 
And with his Father work us a perpetual peace." (6x c) 

The stanzaic structure in the body of the Hymn is wholly 
Milton's invention, and is singularly beautiful. It consists 
normally of three parts, — two pairs of rhymed iambic trimeter 
lines, each pair being followed by a single pentameter line 
(these lines themselves constituting a rhymed pair), and a 
concluding rhymed couplet consisting of a tetrameter and a 
hexameter line. Thus the stanza falls naturally into halves, 
the pairs in the first and the last half faintly recalling those 
in the stanzas of the Introduction, while the closing hexameter, 
common to both Introduction ana Hymn, serves still further 
to give unity to the whole poem from the standpoint of metrical 
construction. The form may be illustrated by the following 
stanza : — 

The stars with deep amaze (3 x a) 
Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, (3 x a) 

Bending one way their precious influence, (5 x b) 

And will not take their flight, (3 x c) 
For all the morning light, (3 x c) 

Or Lucifer that often warned them thence, (5 x b) 

But in their glimrnering orbs did glow (4 x d) 

Until their Lord himself bespake and bid them go. (6 x d) 



MINOR POEMS OF MILTON. 



ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 



This is the month and this the happy morn, 
Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King/ 
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, 
Our great redemption from above did bring ; 
For so the holy sages once did sing 5 

That he our deadly forfeit should release,^ 
And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. 

II. 

■ That glorious form, that light unsufferable, 

And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, 

Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table lo 

To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, 

He laid aside ; and, here with us to be, 

Forsook the courts of everlasting day, 
And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. 

1 71, 74. 2 96, 97. 

261 



262 MINOR POEMS. 



III. 



Say,* Heavenly Muse,^ shall not thy sacred vein 15 

Afford a present to the Infant God ? 
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain 
To welcome him to this his new abode, 
Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team- untrod. 
Hath took no print of the approaching light, 20 

And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright ? 

IV. 

See how from far, upon the eastern road. 
The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet ; 
O run, prevent them with thy humble ode, 
And lay it lowly at his blessed feet ! 25 

Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, 
And join thy voice unto the angel quire, 
From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire. 

THE HYMN. 

I. 

It was the winter wild, 

While the Heaven-born Child 30 

All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies ; 
Nature in awe to him 
Had doffed her gaudy trim, 

With her great Master so to sympathize : 
It was no season then for her 35 

To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour. 

1 36. 2 38^ 21. * /'. /.. I. 6. 



II T'WMf'''/'^'' 




HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 263 

II. 
Only with speeches fair 
She woos the gentle air 

To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, 
And on her naked shame, 40 

Pollute with sinful blame, 

The saintly veil of maiden white to throw ; 
Confounded, that her Maker's eyes 
Should look so near upon her foul deformities. 

III. 
But he, her fears to cease, 45 

Sent down the meek-eyed Peace ; 

She, crowned with ohve green, came softly sliding 
Down through the turning sphere,^ 
His ready harbinger, 

With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing ; 50 

And, waving wide her myrtle wand, 
She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. 

IV. 

No war or battle's sound 
Was heard the world around : 

The idle spear and shield were high uphung, 55 

The hooked chariot stood 
Unstained with hostile blood. 

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; 
And kings sat still with awful eye, 
As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. 60 

1 9, 10. 



264 MINOR POEMS. 

V. 

But peaceful was the night 
Wherein the Prince of Light 

His reign of peace upon the earth began ; 
The winds with wonder whist 
Smoothly the waters kissed, 65 

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, 
Who now hath quite forgot to rave, 
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 

VI. 

The stars with deep amaze 

Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, ;o 

Bending one way their precious influence,^ 
And will not take their flight. 
For all the morning light, 

Or Lucifer^ that often warned them thence. 
But in their glimmering orbs did glow 75 

Until their Lord himself bespake and bid them go. 

VII. 

And though the shady gloom 
Had given day her room, 

The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed, 
And hid his head for shame, 80 

As his inferior flame 

The new-enlightened world no more should need : 
He saw a greater Sun appear 
Than his bright throne or burning axletree ^ could bear. 

1 16. 2 14^ end. 3 38, 



HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 265 

VIII. 

The shepherds on the lawn, 85 

Or ere the point of dawn, 

Sat simply chatting in a rustic row ; 
Full little thought they than 
That the mighty Pan ^ 

Was kindly come to live with them below ; 90 

Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, 
Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. 

IX. 

When such music sweet 

Their hearts and ears did greet 

As never was by mortal finger strook, 95 

Divinely-warbled voice 
Answering the stringed noise. 

As all their souls in blissful rapture took ; 
The air, such pleasure loath to lose, 
With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. 

X. 

Nature, that heard such sound loi 

Beneath the hollow round 

Of Cynthia's ^ seat the airy region thrilhng, 
Now was almost won 
To think her part was done, 105 

And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; 
She knew such harmony alone 
Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. 



1 51, and Glossary. 



266 MINOR POEMS. 

XI. 

At last surrounds their sight 

A globe of circular light, no 

That with long beams the shamefaced Night arrayed ; 
The helmed Cherubim ^ 
And sworded Seraphim 

Are seen in ghttering ranks with wings displayed, 
Harping in loud and solemn quire, 115 

With unexpressive * notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir. 

XII. 

Such music, as 'tis said. 
Before was never made. 

But when of old the Sons of Morning sung, 
While the Creator ^ great 120 

His constellations ^ set. 

And the well-balanced world t on hinges hung. 
And cast the dark foundations deep, 
And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. § 

XIII. 

Ring out, ye crystal spheres ! ^ 125 

Once bless our human ears. 

If ye have power to touch our senses so ; 
And let your silver chime 
Move in melodious time, 

And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow ; 130 

And with your ninefold harmony 
Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. 

1 72. 2 y6, 77. 3 12. ^9, 10, note. 

* Lycu/as, 176. f P- L. VIl. 242. § Ibid. 276-284. 



HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 267 



XIV. 

For if such holy song 
Enwrap our fancy long, 

Time will run back and fetch the age of gold ; ^ 135 



And speckled Vanity 
Will sicken soon and die, 

And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould ; 
And Hell itself will pass away, 
And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 140 

XV. 

Yea, Truth and Justice then 
Will down return to men. 

Orbed in a rainbow ; and, like glories wearing, 
Mercy will sit between, 
Throned in celestial sheen, 145 

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering ; 
And heaven, as at some festival. 
Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. 

XVI. 

But wisest Fate - says, No ; 

This must not yet be so ; '150 

The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy 
That on the bitter cross 
Must redeem our loss. 

So both himself and us to glorify ; 
Yet first, to those ychained in sleep, 155 

The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the 
deep 

Mi- '54. 



268 MINOR POEMS. 

XVII. 

With such a horrid clang 
As on Mount Sinai ^ rang, 

While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake : 
The aged Earth, aghast i6o 

With terror of that blast, 

Shall from the surface to the centre shake, 
When at the world's last session 
The dreadful Judge in middle air * shall spread his throne. 

XVIII. 

And then at last our bliss 165 

Full and perfect is, 

But now begins ; for from this happy day 
The old Dragon,^ under ground 
In straiter limits bound. 

Not half so far casts his usurped sway, 170 

And, wroth to see his kingdom fail. 
Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. 

XIX. 

The oracles are dumb : 
No' voice or hideous hum 

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving ; 175 
Apollo from his shrine 
Can no more divine, 

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos ^ leaving ; 
No nightly trance or breathed spell 
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. 180 

187,88. 2 5ee Glossary, under " Apocalypse." ^ 39. 

* P. L. I. 516. 



HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 269 

XX. 

The lonely mountains o'er, 
And the resounding shore, 

A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; 
From haunted spring and dale 
Edged with poplar pale, 185 

The parting Genius ^ is with sighing sent ; 
With flower-inwoven tresses torn 
The Nymphs ^ in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. 

XXI. 

In consecrated earth, 

And on the holy hearth, 190 

The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint ; 
In urns and altars round, 
A drear and dying sound 

Affrights the flamens at their service quaint ; 
And the chill marble seems to sweat, 195 

While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat» 

XXII. 

Peor ^ and BaaHm * 
Forsake their temples dim. 

With that twice-battered god f of Palestine ^ ; 
And mooned Ashtaroth,* 200 

Heaven's queen § and mother both, 

Nov/ sits not girt with tapers' holy shine ; 

1 51. 291. 392. 

* P. L. I. 422. t Ibi<^' 457-466. § Ibid. 439. 



270 MINOR POEMS. 

The Lybic Hammon ^ shrinks his horn ; 
In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz" 
mourn. * 

XXIII. 

And sullen Moloch;'^ fled, 205 

Hath left in shadows dread 

His burning idol all of blackest hue ; 
In vain with cymbals' ring 
They call the grisly king, 

In dismal dance about the furnace blue : t * 210 

The brutish gods of Nile as fast, 
Isis ^ and Orus ^ and the dog Anubis/ haste. 

XXIV. 

Nor is Osiris^ seen 

In Memphian grove or green, 

Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud ; 215 
Nor can he be at rest 
Within his sacred chest ; 

Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud ; 
In vain with timbrelled anthems dark 
The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark. 220 

XXV. 

He feels from Juda's land 
The dreaded Infant's hand ; 

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyne ; 

1 55- ' 47- ' 94- * P' /- I- 446-452. t Ibid. 392 +. 



HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 271 

Nor all the gods beside 

Longer dare abide, 225 

Not Typhon^ huge ending in snaky twine : 
Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, 
Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew. 

XXVI. 

So when the sun in bed, 

Curtained with cloudy red, 230 

Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, 
The flocking shadows pale 
Troop to the infernal jail, 

Each fettered ghost sHps to his several grave,^ 
And the yellow-skirted fays 235 

Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze.^ 

XXVII. 

But see ! the Virgin blest 
Hath laid her Babe to rest ; 

Time is our tedious song should here have ending : 
Heaven's youngest-teemed star 240 

Hath fixed her polished car, 

Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending ; 
And all about the courtly stable 
Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable. 



18. 



INTRODUCTION TO L'ALLEGRO AND 
IL PENSEROSO. 

General Characteristics. 

Although L 'Allegro and // Penseroso are often classed as 
lyric poems, they exhibit, in some respects, a departure from the 
normal lyric type. They apparently aim rather at description 
than at emotional expression ; they seem to be the fruit rather 
of calm contemplation than of passionate experience ; they 
exhibit no ebb and flow of feeling ; and although they have 
well-marked lines of cleavage, they are not formally divided 
into stanzas. While they deal with moods {i.e. with emotional 
states), they deal with them from the standpoint of the ob- 
server who stands aloof from that which he describes ; in other 
words, the treatment is objective not subjective, as in a pure 
lyric. At the same time, in brevity, in essential unity of 
theme, in the highly imaginative treatment of certain por- 
tions, in exquisitely melodious rhythmic effects, they exhibit 
an undoubted lyric quality. 

It would seem not wholly unwarrantable to consider 
L' Allegro and // Penseroso as virtually two divisions of a 
single poem, which might be entitled ''The Ideal Life." 
They have often been represented to be the expression of 
two mutually exclusive ideals of life, that of the jovial and that 
of the melancholy man, but this interpretation is radically 
misleading. The character of the hypothetical subject of 
these experiences is the same for both poems, — a cultivated, 
educated, refined man, of scholarly tastes and leisure to indulge 
them ; a man who eschews an unhealthy pessimism on the one 

272 



L'ALLEGRO AND IL PENSEROSO. 273 

hand and a trifling or vapid and aimless hilarity on the other. 
He is sometimes in a frame of mind that leads him to seek 
enlivening social intercourse ('' L' Allegro'' = the cheerful 
[man] ), and sometimes in one that leads him to seek com- 
munion with all that is most serious in himself and in his 
fellow-men, and consequently to withdraw from the " various 
bustle of resort" (''11 Penseroso," = the contemplative 
[man] ) . The poet does not set before himself the alterna- 
tive of hving w//6'//k with either the ''goddess fair and free" 
or the "goddess sage and holy"; what he does intend is, in 
his livelier moods to shun " vain, deluding Joys, the brood of 
Folly," and in his more serious moods to avoid that " loathed 
Melancholy " which is attended by " horrid shapes and shrieks 
and sights unholy." " With thee, Mirth," he declares, " and 
also with thee, Melancholy, if ye can give these delights and 
these pleasures, I intend to live.'''' 

Striicture. 

It is of course self-evident that the two moods depicted 
could not dominate the mind of the subject at the same time, 
and this fact indicated to the poet the appropriate method of 
treatment, which was, to delineate in a double series of pic- 
tures typical scenes adapted to give pleasure to a person in 
the given mood, but repugnant to him when in the comple- 
mentary mood. These scenes follow the logical order of time 
for the twenty-four hour period following the opening scene, 
and also (but less obviously) an order suggestive of the 
change in tastes and inclinations which comes with the transi- 
tion from early to late manhood. Indeed, the minutest details 
in the structure of the poem are logically determined by these 
considerations. It seems almost inevitable that the poet 
should begin by rejecting those lines of behavior which are 
foreign to the nature of a man living the ideal life, and 
announcing the mood with which the scenes that follow are 



274 INTRODUCTION TO 

in harmony. It is also logical that in developing the series of 
pictures he should begin in each case with the time of day 
when the given mood is most likely to arise (the day of 
L^ Allegro extending from dawn to midnight, and that of 
// Petiseroso extending from sunset to mid-noon). With this 
exception, the poems are almost exact counterparts. Each 
reviews in turn the charms of rur al and then of urban life ; 
each treats of pleasures enjoyed in isolation, then of those 
; shared with comrades, of active and of passive enjoyments ; 
\ each touches first upon the unstudied pleasures derived from 
! Nature and from spontaneous impulses, and then upon those 
which are dependent upon Art. Throughout the 150 lines in 
the body of the poem oi L' Allegro and the corresponding 166 
jlines in // Penseroso, the balance is held with a perfectly even 
hand. But then something like a prophetic strain replaces 
that of contemplation, and the poet adds a concluding picture 
which may be considered as a finale to the compound poem. 
In this, his vision penetrates beyond the present into the 
future, and he foresees that in the autumn of life the second 
of the two moods will become more and more increasingly re- 
current and insistent, until it becomes wholly dominant, and 
finds its satisfaction in the repose and isolation of the hermit's 
cell. 

Metrical Form. 



/ti 



The metrical form of the poems is skilfully chosen so as 
to harmonize with the subject-matter. The introductory 
addresses to " Melancholy '' and to " Vain deluding Joys," 
which constitute distinct structural units, are also so distinc- 
tive in form as virtually to constitute separate stanzas. The 
metrical scheme for these is of the following type : The lines 
are iambic, alternating between trimeter and pentameter. 
The order of the rhymes is unique, and at the first glance 
seems irregular and arbitrary ; but by indicating the symmet- 
rical features of the rhyme scheme as follows, — 



L'ALLEGRO AND IL PENSEROSO. 275 

a — b^ b — a; c — d, d, e^ e — c 
it becomes evident that the second group is in close structural 
relation to the first. The remaining portions of the poems are 
not divided into stanzas, and the artistic reason for this treat- 
ment is evident. The successive scenes are intended to pass 
in panoramic flow before the mental eye, like the phantasma- 
goria of a dream, where each illusion merges insensibly into 
the next. 

In regard to the metre of these portions the student will find 
that "doctors disagree." Many editors assert that the metre 
oi L^ Allegro is trochaic. If, however, it be admitted that the 
metre of a poem is determinable from the character of its 
predominant verse, as that of a single verse is determined 
from its predominant foot (and the contrary hypothesis is 
absurd), then both L'' Allegro and // Penseroso are written in 
iambic tetrameter. Of the 152 lines in V Allegro, 81 (or more 
than half) are indisputably iambic, with the characteristic 
weak first and stressed final syllables ; 21 are iambic except in 
the first foot, where the variation characteristic of flexibly con- 
structed iambic verse occurs, namely, the reversal of the stress 
in that foot, the four others remaining normal; only 12 have 
the unstressed ending characteristic of trochaic metre ; and 
only 5 of the entire 152 can be scanned as perfect trochaic 
lines. The evidence could hardly be stronger, that the re- 
maining lines (constituting less than a third in amount), which 
both begin and end with a stressed syllable, should be classed 
as iambic lines with the weak initial syllable wanting. 

The principal variation from the normal metrical type in 
which Milton indulges is the substitution of a trochee for the 
initial iambus of a line, or the omission of the opening unac- 
cented syllable. This device is very skilfully used where 
vigor (e. g. in the lines, " Hence, loathed Melancholy," 
" Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,'' " Scatters the 
rear of darkness thin," ) or where vivacity (e. g. in the lines, 



2/6 INTRODUCTION. 

*' Haste thee, nymph, and bring with tliee, jest and youthful 
Jollity," "Come, and trip it as you go,'' ) is to be gained by 
the more abrupt beginning. No better exercise for training 
the ear to a perception of the finer harmonies of verse can be 
found than to read the lines of L'' Allegro and // Penseroso 
metrically, with the attention directed toward detecting the 
subtle adaptation of the movement to the varying shades of 
feeling expressed by the poet. 






^"^AA 



^ 



^ L'ALLEGRO. 




Hence, loathed Melancholy, 

Of Cerberiis ^ and blackest Midnight born 
In Stygian ^ cave forlorn, 

'Mongst horrid shapes and shrieks and sights unholy ! 
Find out some uncouth cell, 5 

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings 
And the night-raven sings ; 

There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks. 
As ragged as thy locks, 

In dark Cimmerian " desert ever dwell. lo 

But come, thou Goddess fair and free, 
In Heaven yclept Euphrosyne,'^ 
And by men heart-easing Mirth, 
Whom lovely Venus,^ at a birth, 

With two sister Graces more \ 15 

To ivy-crowned Bacchus '' bore ; \ 

Or whether — as some sager sing — / 

The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
Zephyr, with Aurora '^ playing, 

As he met her once a-Maying, 20 

There, on beds of violets blue. 
And fresh-blown roses washed in dew. 
Filled her with thee, a daughter fair. 
So buxom, blithe, and debonair. 

1 23. 2 68, end. 3 ^2, end. * 46. ^ ^3. 6 28. 

277 ^^ 



278 MINOR POEMS. 

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee 25 

Jest and youthful JoUity, 

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, -'^C^ 

Nods and becks and wreathed smiles, , . • 
Such as hang on Hebe's ^ cheek. 
And love to live in dimple sleek, 30 

Sport that wrinkled Care derides. 
And Laughter holding both his sides. 
Come, and trip it as you go. 
On the light fantastic toe ; * 

And in thy right hand lead with thee 35 

The mountain nymph,- sweet Liberty ; 
And if I give thee honour due. 
Mirth, admit me of thy crew. 
To live with her and live with thee, 
In unreproved pleasures free : /f 40 

To hear the lark begin his flight. 
And singing startle the dull night, 
From his watch-tower in the skies, 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
Then to come in spite of sorrow, 45 

And at my window bid good-morrow. 
Through the sweet-briar or the vine. 
Or the twisted eglantine ; 
While the cock with lively din 
Scatters the rear of darkness thin, 50 

And to the stack or the barn-door • 
Stoutly struts his dames before ; 
Oft h.itening how the hounds and horn 




^ ZZ' ^51. * Comus, 143, 144. 




L'ALLEGRO. 279 

Cheerly rouse the slumbering Morn, 
From the side of some hoar hill, 55 

Through the high wood echoing shrill : 
• Sometime walking, not unseen, 
By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, 
Right against the eastern gate 
Where the great Sun begins his state, 60 

Robed in flames and amber light, ^ ,.4x-m*» 

The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; 
While the ploughman near at hand 
Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 
And the milkmaid singeth bUthe, 65 

And the mower whets his scythe. 
And every shepherd tells his tale 
Under the hawthorn in the dale. 

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures 
Whilst the landscape round it measures : 
Russet lawns and fallows gray. 
Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
Mountains on whose barren breast 
The labouring clouds do often rest ; 
Meadows trim with daisies pied, 75 

Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; 
Towers and battlements it sees 
Bosomed high in tufted trees. 
Where perhaps some beauty lies. 
The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes 
From betwixt two aged oaks. 
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met 
Are at their savoury dinner set 



70 



80 



28o MINOR POEMS. 

Of herbs and other country messes, 85 

Which the neat-handed PhiUis dresses ; 

And then in haste her bower she leaves, 

With Thestyhs to bind the sheaves, 

Or, if the earlier season lead, 

To the tanned haycock in the mead. 90 

Sometimes with secure dehght 
The upland hamlets will invite. 
When the merry bells ring round, 
And the jocund rebecks sound 
To many a youth and many a maid 95 

Dancing in the chequered shade, 
And young and old come forth to play 
On a sunshine holiday, 
Till the livelong daylight fail : 
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 100 

With stories told of many a feat, 
How fairy Mab ^ the junkets eat : 
She was pinched and pulled, she said. 
And he, by Friar's lantern ^ led, 
Tells how the drudging goblin ^ sweat 105 

To earn his cream-bowl duly set. 
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, 
His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn 
That ten day-labourers could not end ; 
Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, no 

And, stretched out all the chimney's length, 
Basks at the fire his hairy strength, 
, And crop-full out of doors he flings 

1 18, and note. 



L'ALLEGRO. 281 

Ere the first cock his matia rings. I 

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, / n; 
By whispering winds soon lulled asleep./ 

Towered cities please us then, 
And the busy hum of men, 
Where throngs of knights and barons bold 
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, 120 

With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
Rain influence, and judge the prize 
Of wit or arms, while both contend 
To win her grace whom all commend. 
There let Hymen ^ oft appear 125 

In saffron robe, with taper clear. 
And pomp and feast and revelry. 
With mask and antique pageantry, 
Such sights as youthful poets dream 
On summer eves by haunted stream. 130 

Then to the well-trod stage anon. 
If Jonson's learned sock be on. 
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, 
Warble his native wood-notes wild. 
>Snd ever, against eating cares, 135 

Lap me in soft Lydian ^ airs ^ '' ^y -^ • 

Married to immortal verse, ' -C<.-® 

Such as the meeting soul may pierce 
In notes with many a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 

With wanton heed and giddy cunning, 
(The melting voice through mazes running,) 

46. ^ See Glossary, " Mode." 



282 MINOR POEMS. 

Untwisting all the chains that tie 

The hidden soul of harmony ; 

That Orpheus' ^ self may heave his head 145 

From golden slumber on a bed 

Of heaped Elysian ^ flowers, and hear 

Such strains as would have won the ear 

Of Pluto to have quite set free 

His half-regained Eurydice.^ 150 

These delights if thou canst give, 
Mirth, with thee 1 mean to live. 



42. 



y^ 



Kl 



IL PENSEROSO. 

Hence, vain deluding Joys, 

The brood of Folly without father bred ! 
How little you bestead, 

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ! 
Dwell in some idle brain, 

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess. 
As thick and numberless 

As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, 
Or likest hovering dreams. 

The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 

But hail, thou Goddess sage and holy, 
Hail, divinest Melancholy ! 
Whose saintly visage is too bright 
To hit the sense of human sight. 
And therefore to our weaker view 
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue ; 
Black, but such as in esteem 
Prince Memnon's sister ^ might beseem. 
Or that starred Ethiop queen - that strove 
To set her beauty's praise above 
The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended. 
Yet thou art higher far descended : 
thee bright-haired Vesta ^ long of yore 



1 65, note. 2 12, "Cassiopeia " ^ 30, 3- 

283 



284 MINOR POEMS. 

To solitary Saturn bore ; 

His daughter she — in Saturn's reign 25 

Such mixture was not held a stain. 

Oft in glimmering bowers and glades 

He met her, and in secret shades 

Of woody Ida's ^ inmost grove, 

While yet there was no fear of Jove. 30 

Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, 
Sober, steadfast, and demure, 
All in a robe of darkest grain. 
Flowing with majestic train, 

And sable stole of cypress lawn 35 

Over thy decent shoulders drawn : 
Come, but keep thy wonted state, 
With even step and musing gait, 
And looks commercing with the skies, 
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : 40 

There, held in holy passion still. 
Forget thyself to marble, till 
With a sad leaden downward cast 
Thou fix them on the earth as fast. 
And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, 45 

Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet. 
And hears the Muses - in a ring 
Aye round about Jove's altar '^ sing : 
And add to these retired Leisure, 
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; 50 

But, first and chiefest, with thee bring 
Him that yon soars on golden wing, 

134. '36. ^34. 



IL PENSEROSO. 285 

Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,* 

The Cherub ^ Contemplation ; 

And the mute Silence hist along, 55 

'Less Philomel will deign a song f ' 

In her sweetest, saddest phght, 
...Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 

While^Cynthia- checks her dragon yoke 

Gently o'er the accustomed oak. 60 

"A Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, 

Most musical, most melancholy ! 

Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among 

I woo, to hear thy even-song ; 

And, missing thee, I walk unseen -^ 65 

On the dry smooth-shaven green. 

To behold the wandering moon. 

Riding near her highest noon. 

Like one that had been led astray 

Through the heaven's wide pathless way, 70 

And oft, as if her head she bowed. 

Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 
Oft on a plat of rising ground, 

I hear the far-off curfew sound. 

Over some wide-watered shore 75 

Swinging slow with sullen roar •, 

Or if the air will not permit, 

Some still removed place will fit, 

Where glowing embers through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom ; 80 

Far from all resort of mirth. 



■•^37>43- */*. Z. VL749+. 



6 MINOR POEMS. 

Save the cricket on the hearth, 
Or the behman's drowsy charm 
To bless the doors from nightly harm. 

Or let my lamp at midnight hour S5 

Be seen in some high lonely tower, 
Where I may oft outwatch the Bear,^ 
With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere 
The spirit of Plato, to unfold 
What worlds or what vast regions hold 90 

The immortal mind that hath forsook 
Her mansion in this fleshly nook ; 
And of those demons that are found 
In fire, air, flood, or under ground, 
Whose power hath a true consent 95 

With planet ^ or with element. 
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy 
In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 
Presenting Thebes or Pelops' line," 
Or the tale of Troy ^ divine. 
Or what — though rare — of later age 
Ennobled hath the buskined stage. 

But, O sad virgin, that thy power 
Might raise Musaeus from his bower. 
Or bid the soul of Orpheus ^ sing i 

Such notes as, warbled to the string, 
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek. 
And made Hell grant what love did seek ! 
Or call up him that left half- told 
The story of Cambuscan '^ bold, 1 

1 12, "Cynosure." ^ 16. ^ 55^ 4 42. ^ See Glossary. 



IL PENSEROSO. 287 

Of Camball and of Algarsife, 

And who had Canace to wife, 

That owned the virtuous ring and glass, 

And of the wondrous horse of brass 

On which the Tartar king did ride ; 115 

And if aught else great bards beside 

In sage and solemn tunes have sung, 

Of turneys and of trophies hung, 

Of forests and enchantments drear, 

Where more is meant than meets the ear. 120 

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 
Till civil-suited Morn appear. 
Not tricked and frounced as she was wont 
With the Attic boy? to hunt. 
But kerchiefed in a comely cloud, 125 

While rocking winds are piping loud, 
Or ushered with a shower still. 
When the gust hath blown his fill. 
Ending on the rustling leaves 
With minute-drops from off the eaves. 130 

And when the sun begins to fling 
His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring 
To arched walks of twihght groves, 
And shadows brown that Sylvan - loves 
Of pine or monumental oak, 135 

Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt. 
Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. 
There in close covert by some brook, 

1 See Glossary, " Attica." ^ $i. 



288 MINOR POEMS. 

Where no profaner eye may look, 140 

Hide me from day's garish eye, 
While the bee with honeyed thigh. 
That at her flowery work doth sing. 
And the waters murmuring. 

With such consort as they keep, 145 

Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep; 
And let some strange mysterious dream 
Wave at his wings, in airy stream 
Of lively portraiture displayed, 
Softly on my eyelids laid. 150 

And, as I wake, sweet music breathe 
Above, about, or underneath. 
Sent by some spirit to mortals good. 
Or the unseen Genius^ of the wood.* 
TBut let my due feet never fail 155 

To walk the studious cloister's pale. 
And love the high embowed roof. 
With antique pillars massy-proof. 
And storied windows richly dight, 
Casting a dim religious light. 160 

There let the pealing organ blow 
To the full-voiced quire below, 
In service high and anthems clear. 
As may with sweetness, through mine ear. 
Dissolve me into ecstasies, 165 

And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. 

And may at last my weary age 
Find out the peaceful hermitage, 

1 51. ^ Lycidas, 183. 



IL PENSEROSO. 289 

The hairy gown and mossy cell, 

Where I may sit and rightly spell 170 

Of every star that "heaven doth show, . 

And every herb that sips the dew, 

Till old experience do attain 

To something like prophetic strain. 

These pleasures, Melancholy, give, 175 

And I with thee will choose to live. 



^ 



J 



INTRODUCTION TO COMUS. 

Gener'al Characteristics. 

In Comiis the student will find an opportunity to familiarize 
himself with poetic types of the highest importance. Because 
of its external form, it must be classed as a drama; in its 
spirit, its literary dress, its obvious purpose, and its history, 
it belongs to the sub-class '^ masque " ; in its interpolated 
songs it presents exquisite examples of the pure lyric ; in its 
inner purpose and motive it is an allegorical " criticism of 
life " ; and until it has been studied from each of these points 
of view, it will not have yielded all its possibilities of liter- 
ary training or of aesthetic pleasure to the reader. 

The masque is a product of the Renaissance movement in 
Italy during the latter part of the Middle Ages, a movement 
marked by a tendency to excess in every activity of life. It led 
to extravagance in dress, exaggeration in language, and affec- 
tation in manners. The passion for dramatic representation 
was native to the Italians, but to a people feeling the stimulus of 
Renaissance activities, ordinary dramatic productions proved 
too tame to satisfy their craving for novelty and brilliancy, and 
the masque-type was developed to satisfy what now seems an 
unnatural and false taste. The distinctive features of the new 
type were that it enriched the normal dramatic forms by the 
addition of elements which would call for lavish expenditure, 
and provide an opportunity for gorgeous and striking display, 
viz. (i) scenic effects, (2) musical numbers, (3) dancing, and 
(4) representations of the supernatural. As the Renaissance 
was marked by a widespread study of the Greek and Latin 

290 



INTRODUCTION TO COMUS. 291 

classics, it was inevitable that their stories of gods, demi- 
gods, monsters, and prodigies should be drafted into the 
service of the masque-maker, to aid him in securing spectacu- 
lar effects. 

The masque made its appearance in England during the 
reign of Elizabeth. That period saw the Renaissance move- 
ment, with its plenitude of life, at its culmination. Literature, 
science, art, religion, all suddenly gave evidence of a new and 
surprising vigor. With the increase of wealth, English social 
life was in a few decades entirely transformed. Education, 
before scanty and imperfect, became the possession of the 
many. The regular drama was still crude in form and not yet 
wholly in good repute as a means of public entertainment, but 
in the masque the rich found a ready means for displaying 
the new wealth, the new taste, the new learning, the new 
culture derived from the Continent, of which the masque was 
itself an example. Since masques must treat of themes 
acceptable according to the standards of culture and of 
taste prevailing among the upper classes, their subjects would 
be abstract, symbolic, poetic in character; their language 
would be richly adorned with the fruits of the new culture ; 
their music and dancing would afford to the titled and aristo- 
cratic amateur actors an opportunity for the display of per- 
sonal gifts and graces ; and their expensiveness rendered 
them the exclusive luxury of the wealthy few. At first they 
were presented at the annual revels of societies of learned 
men {e.g. the lawyers of Gray's Inn and the Inner Temple, or 
the masters and pupils of Cambridge University), where the 
expense could be shared among a large number of persons ; * 
but later, numerous masques were produced at the court and 
at the residences of wealthy nobles, who vied with one another 

* The masque — The Triwnph of Peace — presented by the four 
Inns of Court in 1634 cost over ^21,000 in the money of that time. 



292 INTRODUCTION TO 

in the endeavor to provide splendid entertainments for a 
royal progress, or other occasion of great note. So costly 
did these productions become that the expense threatened to 
become prohibitive, and their extravagance would undoubt- 
edly have brought about their early discontinuance had not 
the Puritan revolution swept them away with all other dra- 
matic performances in 1649. 

It seems a strange caprice of fortune that to John Milton, 
the '' Lady of Christ College," Puritan censor of a worldly 
court, chastened in taste and earnest in spirit, should have 
come the call to produce the last notable specimen of this 
brilliant fruit of Culture wedded to Folly ; but it was not in 
caprice, but in pursuance of the end to which his whole life 
was dedicated, that he converted the masque to the service 
of the highest good, as a vehicle of sublime truths. Fanciful 
allegory subordinated to the service of religion ; gorgeous 
stage pictures where distressed mortals find succor from 
uncouth monsters through the agency of radiant spirits from 
Heaven, where primeval forest and magic palaces form the 
rostrum for eloquent championship of the truths of morality 
and religion ; diction in which rich imagery is made the 
servant of noble thought, and Fancy, not riotous but re- 
strained, gilds the whole with colors not of earth — these are 
the fruits of the Puritan spirit tempered by Renaissance 
culture, when enlisted in the service of the Elizabethan 
masque. 

The conventions by which Milton was bound to shape his 
work were few. It was, however, understood that a masque 
should consist of two distinct elements, giving to the produc- 
tion, by their opposition, artistic variety and contrast. These 
were called the " Masque '' and the " Anti-masque.'' The 
masque should contain the development of an elevated theme, 
set forth in stately and highly ornate language ; the Anti- 
masque should consist of bizarre and grotesque features 



COMUS. 293 

serving as a foil to the serious parts. These grotesque elements 
Milton introduced so ingeniously that they seem essential to 
the development of the principal theme. The only other 
indispensable requirement was that he should introduce 
various dances (for two of which he utilized the Anti-masque) 
and lyrics, a task wholly congenial to him. 

History and Stmchire. 

Comus owes its origin to the desire of John, Earl of 
Bridgewater and lately appointed Lord President of Wales 
and of the Marches, to celebrate his assumption of the duties 
of his office by giving a grand entertainment at his official 
residence, the castle of Ludlow. He applied to Henry Lawes, 
a leading musician of the times, who had had an active part 
in the production of several masques in London, to arrange 
for a similar performance at Ludlow. Lawes chose Milton to 
prepare the " libretto ''' of the work ; Inigo Jones, an architect 
and mechanician of national repute, was engaged to create 
the scenery and mechanical devices for the stage effects ; and 
Lawes himself undertook to compose the incidental music 
and direct the stage production. 

It is not difficult to reconstruct in imagination the brilliant 
scene when the masque was presented on Michaelmas night, 
September 29, 1634. In the great hall of the castle (it 
was sixty feet long by thirty feet wide) is a stage fitted 
with scenery for representing a wild wood and a gorgeous 
dissolving palace, with mechanism for raising and lowering 
the Spirit by invisible wires, with facilities for producing a 
sudden blaze of light or the deepest gloom. At one side are 
the chairs of state, where sit the givers of the feast, the " noble 
Peer of mickle trust and power" and his Lady, so placed 
that, without their moving, a little dexterous manipulation of 
the scenery may bring them for the final scene within the 
circle of actors instead of spectators. The body of the hall 



294 INTRODUCTION TO 

is filled with honored guests, crown officers, knights of the 
shire, and burgesses, whose favor, if won by these courtesies, 
will much lighten the EarPs task of government. 

The candles in the sconces are extinguished, the curtains 
part and disclose a dim wood, silent and threatening in its 
suggestion of loneliness and unknown terrors. Then soft 
music is heard, and down amid the "nodding horror'"' of 
those shady boughs floats a Spirit whose filmy garments, 
"spun out of Iris woof," "cast a gleam over the tufted grove." 
He advances singing (for this is Henry Lawes) : — 

" From the Heavens now I fly, 
And those happy climes that lie 
Where day never shuts his eye, — "* 

and ends by reciting the explanatory matter in regard to the 
other characters in the play contained in lines i to 92. 

In sharp contrast with this scene comes the first phase of 
the Anti-masque in the wild rout of Comus and his revellers, 
their grotesque masked faces gleaming in the lurid light of 
the flickering torches, their dishevelled and tawdry garments 
contrasting with the delicate, iridescent robes worn by the 
Spirit, who has hidden in the shrubbery. A blasphemous 
invocation, a mad orgic dance, a sudden alarm, a wild stam- 
pede, and silence and darkness again hold sway as the heroine 
appears in the person of Lady Alice Egerton, the fourteen- 
year-old daughter of the Earl, a pupil of Lawes, under whose 
instruction she has learned to sing the lyrics that fall to her 
part. Her voice, we are sure, can have floated hardly more 
sweetly "upon the wings of Silence" in the Song to Echo 

* Lawes, as stage manager, concluded that the masque would he 
more effective if it opened with a musical number. He therefore 
transferred the passage contained in lines 976 to loi I from the end 
to the beginning of the play. 



COMUS. 295 

than in the musical periods of Milton's matchless apostrophe 
to Faith, Hope, and Chastity. More fitting, perhaps, are 
these words from her lips than is the eulogium on chastity, 
soon heard from the lips of her brother, Sir Thomas Egerton 
(who is but thirteen years old, and not likely to be deeply 
versed in "-divine Philosophy^'). 

And so the play moves on with its quickly shifting scenes, 
its rich dialogue, its lovely music, until the Spirit has dis- 
persed the rustics, who present the second phase of the Anti- 
masque with " duck and nod," and has presented the children 
to their parents amid the plaudits of the spectators. 

Metrical Form. 

The metrical forms in Comiis are varied with great effective- 
ness. The descriptive and narrative parts are in blank verse, 
the standard form for dramatic poetry. One short passage in 
dialogue is composed of single lines spoken by alternate 
speakers, producing something of the effect of heroic couplets. 
Extended portions, designed to be accompanied by music 
or dancing, are written in the lilting iambic tetrameter of 
L' Allegro. The set lyrics are in stanzaic forms of singular 
beauty, devised by Milton or borrowed from the Itahan. 

The version prepared for the original performance differed 
in several respects from that afterward published. Origi- 
nally, after delivering line 671, Comus continued with the 
thirty lines of argument from 706 to 'jyjj omitted the Hues 
from 737 to 755, and then closed with lines 672 to 790. The 
Lady then recited all her lines from 690-799. The present 
division of these two speeches (of seventy-four and fifty-eight 
lines respectively) into four constitutes a distinct increase in 
effectiveness. The lines from 779-806 were probably omitted 
in the acting version. Those from 866 to 889 were set to 
music and sung alternately by Thyrsis and the two Brothers. 



296 INTRODUCTION TO COAIUS. 



Ct'iticistn. 

Comus is essentially a poem rather than a drama. As an 
acting play, it is deficient in events. Alternate speeches of 
dreary length usurp the place of spirited dialogue. Informa- 
tion which an artist in dramatic composition would convey 
through events, or distribute in small portions through the 
dialogue, are massed and presented in a set speech, not 
addressed to some person on the stage, but delivered point- 
blank at the audience. Thus the illusion of reality is wholly 
lacking ; but this is not a peculiarity of the Conius. It is 
characteristic of the masque-type, since masques were always 
composed for audiences of the highest degree of culture and 
of leisure, who sought in the spectacle not the excitement and 
the human interest which the term "dramatic" properly con- 
notes, but rather that agreeable exhilaration which comes 
from the satisfaction of the senses of sight and hearing, and 
of the aesthetic sensibilities in general. 



THE PERSONS IN COMUS. 

The Attendant Spirit, afterward in the habit of Thyrsis. 

Comus with his crew. 

The Lady. 

First Brother. 

Second Brother. 

Sabrina, the Nymph. 

The Chief Persons which presented were: — 
The Lord Brackley. 
Mr. Thomas Egerton, his Brother. 
The Lady Alice Egerton. 



^\<r^^ 




mig]lS1[Ell^glL51[g}lS1El^iHllgl[E]LSl[EIL51^Lgi[giLS1!HllS][E]lg1lglLg 



<^i1 



lUE JkUUCATlUN OF COMUS. 

COMUS. 

A MASQUE. 



Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634, before John, Earl of 
Bridgevvater, then President of Wales. 



The First Scene Discovers a Wild Wood. 

The Attendant Spirit descends or enters. 

Spirit. Before the starry threshold of Jove's court 
]\!y mansion is, where those immortal shapes 
Of bright aerial spirits live insphered 
In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot 
Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care, 

297 



298 MINOR POEMS. 

Confined and pestered in this pinfold here, ^ 

Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, 

Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives. 

After this mortal change, to her true servants 10 

Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats. 

Yet some there be that by true steps aspire 

To lay their just hands on that golden key 

That opes the palace of eternity. 

To such my errand is ; and but for such 15 

I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds 

With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 

But to my task. Neptune,^ besides the sway 
Of every salt flood and each ebbing stream. 
Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove ^ 20 

Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles 
That, like to rich and various gems, inlay 
The unadorned bosom of the deep ; 
Which he, to grace his tributary gods, 
By course commits to several government," 25 

And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns, 
And wield their little tridents. But this isle. 
The greatest and the best of all the main. 
He quarters to his blue-haired deities; 
And all this tract that fronts the falling sun '30 

A noble peer of mickle trust and power 
Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide 
An old and haughty nation, proud in arms : 
Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore. 
Are coming to attend their father's state 35 

Mo, 31. 2.49. 

^ J , . 




Circe, the (lau<,^hter of the Sun, wiiose channed cup 
Whoever tasleil lost liis upiii^'hl shape. 
And downward fell into a [iruvclling awine." 

Comus, 50- 



COMUS. 299 

And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way 

Lies through the perplexed paths of this drear wood, 

The nodding horror of whose shady brows 

Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger ; 

And here their tender age might suffer peril, 40 

But that by quick command from sovran Jove 

I was dispatched for their defence and guard ; 

And listen why, for I will tell you now 

What never yet was heard in tale or song, 

From old or modern bard in hall or bower. 45 

Bacchus,^ that first from out the purple grape 
Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine. 
After the Tuscan maHnpr<; tr^^n^^'^^'"^^'^,^ 
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, 
On Circe's island fell. — Who knows not Circe,^ 50 

The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup 
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, 
And downward fell into a grovelling swine ? — 
This nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks, 
With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth, 55 

Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son 
Much like his father, but his mother more. 
Whom therefore she brought up and Comus named ; 
Who, ripe and frolic of his full-grown age. 
Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, 60 

At last betakes him to this ominous wood, 
And in thick shelter of black shades embowered 
Excels his mother at her mighty art. 
Offering to every weary traveller 

1 53. ' 68. 



300 MINOR POEMS. 

His orient liquor in a crystal glass, 65 

To quench the drouth of Phoebus ; ^ which as they taste — 

For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst — 

Soon as the potion works, their human countenance, 

The express resemblance of the gods, is changed 

Into some brutish form of wolf or bear, 70 

Or ounce or tiger, hog or bearded goat, 

All other parts remaining as they were ; 

And they, so perfect is their misery. 

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement. 

But boast themselves more comely than before, 75 

And all their friends and native home forget. 

To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. 

Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove 

Chances to pass through this adventurous glade. 

Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star 80 

I shoot from heaven to give him safe convoy. 

As now I do. But first I must put off 

These my sky-robes spun out of Iris' - woof, y- • " 

And take the weeds and likeness of a swain ^ "^ 

That to the service of this house belongs, 85 

Who with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied song 

Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar 

And hush the waving woods ; nor of less faith 

And in this office of his mountain watch 

Likehest and nearest to the present aid 90 

Of this occasion. But I hear the tread 

Of hateful steps ; I must be viewless now. 



37» 38. '' 53- 



COMUS. 301 

CoMUS enters ivitJi a charming-rod in one hand, his g/ass 
in the other ; with him a rout of monsters, headed like 
sundry sorts of wild beasts, hut otherwise like men and 
ivomen^ their apparel glistering ; they come in making a 
riotous and unruly noise, luith torches in their hands. 

Comus. The star that the bids the shepherd fold 
Now the top of heaven doth hold ; 

And the gilded car of day .v^ ^^-^ \ ^_^ ^/^ 
His glowing axle ' doth allay .-^^-^-^-v^^^^^^ ^^^""'rt) 

In the steep Atlantic stream ; ^'"'^^^^''^^^^^j^ cM H^^— 
And the slope sun his upward beam [M-^ C-^ 

Shoots against the dusky pole, 

Pacing toward the other goal log '%^ 

Of his chamber in the east. ' 
Meanwhile welcome joy and feast, 
Midnight shout and revelry. 
Tipsy dance and jollity. 

Braid your locks with rosy twine, ■ A,a) - jq. 

Dropping odours, dropping wine. 
Rigour now is gone to bed ; 
And Advice with scrupulous head. 
Strict Age, and sour Severity, 

With their grave saws in slumber He. no 

We that are of purer fire 
Imitate the starry quire, '^ 
Who in their nightly watchful spheres 
Lead in swift round the months and years. 
The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, 115 

^ S^- ^ 8, 9, 10, and note. 



302 MINOR POEMS. 

Now to the moon in wavering morrice move ; 

And on the tawny sands and shelves 

Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves. 

By dimpled brook and fountain brim 

The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim, 120 

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep : 

What hath night to do with sleep ? 

Night hath better sweets to prove ; 

Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. 

Come, let us our rites begin ; 125 

' Tis only daylight that makes sin, 

Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 

Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport, 

Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flame 

Of midnight torches burns ! mysterious dame, 130 

That ne'er art called but when the dragon womb 

Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom, 

And makes one blot of all the air ! 

Stay thy cloudy ebon chair. 

Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat',^ and befriend 135 

Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end 

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out. 

Ere the blabbing eastern scout. 

The nice Morn on the Indian steep, ^ 

From her cabined loophole peep, ' 140 

And to the tell-tale Sun descry 

Our concealed solemnity. 

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground 

In a light fantastic round. 

1 18, 19. 2 See p. 57, top. 



COMUS. 303 

The Measure. 

Break off, break off, I feel the different pace 145 

Of some chaste footing near about this ground. 

Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees ; 

Our number may affright. Some virgin sure — 

For so I can distinguish by mine art — 

Benighted in these woods ! Now to my charms, 150 

And to my wily trains ; I shall ere long 

Be well stocked with as fair a herd as grazed 

About my mother Circe.^ Thus I hurl 

My dazzling spells into the .spongy air. 

Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, 155 

And give it false presentments, lest the place 

And my quaint habits breed astonishment, 

And put the damsel to suspicious flight ; 

Which must not be, for that's against my course. 

I, under fair pretence of friendly ends, * 160 

And well-placed words of glozing courtesy, 

Baited with reasons not unplausible. 

Wind me into the easy-hearted man. 

And hug him into snares. When once her eye 

Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, 165 

I shall appear some harmless villager 

Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. 

But here she comes ; I fairly step aside, 

And hearken if I may her business hear. 



1 68. 



304 MINOR POEMS. 



The Lady enters. 



Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170 
My best guide now ; methought it was the sound 
Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 
Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 
Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds, 
When, for their teeming flocks and granges full, 175 

In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,^ 
And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath 
To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence 
Of such late wassailers ; yet, O, where else 
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 180 

In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? 
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out 
With this long way, resolving here to lodge 
Under the spreading favour of these pines. 
Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket side 185 

To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit 
As the kind hospitable woods provide. 
They left me then when the gray-hooded Even, 
Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed. 
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' - wain. iqo 
But where they are, and why they come not back, 
Is now the labour of my thoughts. 'Tis likeliest 
They had engaged their wandering steps too far, 
And envious darkness, ere they could return. 
Had stole them from me : else, O thievish Night, 195 

Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, 

1 51. * '-^ 38. 




welcome, purc-cycd i-'ailli. whitc-han.k-.l Hope, . . . 
And th(Hi unl)lemished form of Chastity ! 

1 see ve visiblv." Comus, 213 +. 



COMUS. 305 

In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars 

That Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps 

With everlasting oil, to give due light 

To the misled and lonely traveller? 200 

This is the place, as well as I may guess. 

Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 

Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear, 

Yet nought but single darkness do I find. 

What might this be? A thousand fantasies 205 

Begin to throng into my memory, 

Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, 

And airy tongues that syllable men's names 

On sands and shores and desert wilderness. 

These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 210 

The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 

By a strong siding champion. Conscience. — 

O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, 

Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, 

And thou unblemished form of Chastity ! 215 

I see ye visibly, and now believe 

That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill 

Are but as slavish officers of vengeance. 

Would send a glistering guardian, if need were. 

To keep my life and honour unassailed. — 220 

Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night ? 

I did not err ; there does a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night. 

And casts a gleam over this tufted grove. 225 

I cannot halloo to my brothers, but 

Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 

X 



3o6 MINOR POEMS. 

I'll venture ; for my new-enlivened spirits 
Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off. 

Song. 

Sweet Echo} sweetest nymph, that liv'st iniseeji 230 
Within thy ai?y shell 
By slow Meander's mai'gent green, 
And in the violet-embroidered vale 
Where the love-lorfi nightingale 
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well ; 235 

Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair 
That likest thy Narcissus ^ are ? 

O, if thou have 
Hid them in some flowery cave, 

Tell me but where, 240 

Sweet Queen of Pai-ley, Daughter of the Sphere! 
So mayst thou be translated to the skies, 
Arid give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies !'^ 

Enter Comus. 

Co?nus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? 245 

Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
To testify his hidden residence. 
How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, 250 

At every fall smoothing the raven down 
Of darkness till it smiled ! I have oft heard ^ v,j^ ^\. 

1 51. " 10, note. 



COMUS. 307 

My mother Circe ^ with the Sirens - three, 

Amidst the flovvery-kirtled Naiades/ * r ^ 

CuUing their potentjierbs and baleful drugs, •'>->-''-'^-4$5 

Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul, ^JO^ckM^^n'xA 

And lap it in Elysium ; ^ Scylla "* wept. 

And chid her barking waves into attention. 

And fell Charybdis ^ murmured soft applause. 

Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense, 260 

And in sweet madness robbed it of itself ; 

But such a sacred and home-felt delight, 

Such sober certainty of waking bhss, 

I never heard till now. I'll speak to her, 

And she shall be my queen. — Hail, foreign wonder ! 265 

Whom certain these rough shades did never breed. 

Unless the goddess that in rural shrine 

Dwellest here with Pan ^ or Sylvan,^ by blest song 

Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 

To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 270 

Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise 
That is addressed to unattending ears. 
Not any boast of skill, but e^xtreme shift 
How to regain my severed company. 
Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo 275 

To give me answer from her mossy couch. 

Comics. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus? 

Lady. Dim darkness and this leavy labyrinth. 

Comus. Could that divide you from near-ushering 
guides? 

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 280 

1 68. - 59. 3 23. 4 69. ° 51. 



3o8 MINOR POEMS. 

Comics. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why ? 

Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring. 

Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady? 

Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick 
return. 

Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. 285 

Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit ! 

Comus. Imports their loss beside the present need? 

Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. 

Coffius. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom ? 

Lady. As smooth as Hebe's ^ their unrazored lips. 290 

Comus. Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox 
In his loose traces from the furrow came, 
And the swinked hedger at his supper sat. 
I saw them under a green mantling vine 
That crawls along the side of yon small hill, 295 

Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; 
Their port was more than human, as they stood. 
I took it for a faery vision 
Of some gay creatures of the element,^ 
That in the colours of the rainbow live, 300 

And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook. 
And, as I passed, I worshipped. If those you seek. 
It were a journey like the path to Heaven 
To help you find them. 

Lady. Gentle villager. 

What readiest way would bring me to that place ? 305 

Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. 

Lady. To find that out, good shepherd, I suppose, 

1 33. 2 ^^ See also Glossary, " Plato." 



COMUS. 309 

In such a scant allowance of starlight, 

Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, 

Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. 310 

Comiis. I know each lane, and every alley green, 
Dingle or bushy dell of this wild wood, 
And every bosky bourn from side to side. 
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood ; 
And if your stray attendance be yet lodged 315 

Or shroud within these limits, I shall know 
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark 
From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise, 
I can conduct you, lady, to a low 

But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 320 

Till further quest. 

Lady. Shepherd, I take tliy word. 

And trust thy honest-offered courtesy, 
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds 
With smoky rafters than in tapestry halls 
And courts of princes, where it first was named, 325 

And yet is most pretended. In a place 
Less warranted than this, or less secure, 
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. — 
Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial 
To my proportioned strength ! — Shepherd, lead on. 



Enter the tivo Brothers. 






First Brother. Unmuffle, ye faint stars, and thou, fair 
moon. 
That wont'st to love the traveller's benison, 
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud. 



3IO MINOR POEMS. 

And disinherit Chaos/ that reigns here 

In double night of darkness and of shades; 335 

Or if your influence be quite dammed up 

With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, 

Though a rush candle from the wicker hole 

Of some clay habitation, visit us 

With thy long levelled rule of streaming light, 340 

And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,- 

Or Tyrian Cynosure.^ 

Second Brother. Or if our eyes 

Be barred that happiness, might we but hear 
The folded flocks penned in their wattled cotes, 
Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, 345 

Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock 
Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 
'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering, 
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. 
But O that hapless virgin, our lost sister ! 350 

Where may she wander now, whither betake her 
From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles? 
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now. 
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears. 355 
What if in vnld amazement and affright. 
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp 
Of savage hunger or of savage heat ? 

First Brother. Peace, brother, be not over-exquisite 
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; 360 

For grant they be so, while they rest unknown, 

^ 27. ^12, "Cynosure." 



375 



COMUS. 311 

What need a man forestall his date of grief, 

And run to meet what he would most avoid ? 

Or if they be but false alarms of fear, 

How bitter is such self-delusion ! 365 

I do not think my sister so to seek, 

Or so unprincipled in virtue's book, 

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, 

As that the single want of light and noise — 

Not being in danger, as I trust she is not — 370 

Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, 

^ffiid put them into misbecoming plight. 
-—Virtue could see to do what Virtue would 

By her own radiant li ght, ^t hough sun and moon 

Were in the flat sea sunbp' And Wisdom's self 

Oft seeks to sweet re tire a sohtude, 

Where, with her best nurse Contemplation, 

She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings, 

That in the various bustle of resort , 

Were all to-ruffled and sometimes impaired. 380 

'^e that has light within his own clear breast 
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day : 
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts 
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; 
Himself is his own dungeon. | 

Second Brother. 'Tis most true " 385 

That musing Meditation most affects 
The pensive secrecy of desert cell, 
Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, 
And sits as safe as in a senate-house ; 
For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 390 

His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, 



312 MINOR POEMS. 

Or do his gray hairs any violence ? 

But Beauty, Hke the fair Hesperian tree ^ 

Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard 

Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, 395 

To save her blossoms and defend her fruit 

From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. 

You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps 

Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den. 

And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400 

Danger will wink on opportunity, 

And let a single helpless maiden pass 

Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. 

Of night or loneliness it recks me not ; 

I fear the dread events that dog them both, 405 

Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person 

Of our unowned sister. 

First Brother. I do not, brother. 

Infer as if I thought my sister's state 
Secure without all doubt or controversy ; 
Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear 410 

Does arbitraj;e the event, my nature is 
That 1 incline to hope rather than fear. 
And gladly banish squint suspicion. 
My sister is not so defenceless left 

As you imagine ; she has a hidden strength 415 

Which you remember not. 

Second Brother. What hidden strength. 

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that ? 

First Brother. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength 

1 61, 62. 



COMUS. 313 

Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own. 

'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity : 420 

She that has that is clad in complete steel. 

And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen, 

May trace huge forests and unharboured heaths, 

Infamous hills and sandy perilous wilds, 

Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, 425 

No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer 

Will dare to soil her virgin purity. 

Yea, there where very desolation dwells. 

By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades, 

She may pass on with unblenched majesty, 430 

Be it not done in pride or in presumption. 

Some say no evil thing that walks by night. 

In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, 

Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost ^ 

That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, 435 

No goblin or swart fairy of the mine. 

Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 

Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call 

Antiquity from the old schools of Greece 

To testify the arms of chastity ? 440 

Hence had the huntress Dian^' her dread bow, 

¥air silver- shafted queen for ever chaste, 

Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness 

And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought 

The frivolous bolt of Cupid ; ^ gods and men 445 

Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods. 

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon"* shield 

119. Us- '48. ''52. 



314 MINOR POEMS. 

That wise Minerva^ wore, unconquered virgin, 
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, 
But rigid looks of chaste austerity, 450 

And noble grace that dashed brute violence 
With sudden adoration and blank awe ? 
So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity 
That, when a soul is found sincerely so, 
A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 455 

Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, 
And in clear dream and solemn vision 
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear ; 
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants 
Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, 460 

The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence. 
Till all be made immortal : but when lust. 
By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 465 

Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 
The soul grows clotted by contagion, 
Imbodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose 
The divine property of her first being. 
Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 470 

Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres, 
Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave. 
As loth to leave the body that it loved. 
And linked itself by carnal sensualty 

To a degenerate and degraded state.- '475 

Second Brother. How charming is divine philosophy ! 



44. 



COMUS. 315 

Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, 
But musical as is Apollo's ^ lute, 
And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets. 
Where no crude surfeit reigns. 

First Brother. List, list ! I hear 480 

Some far-off halloo break the silent air. 

Second Bivther. Methought so too ; what should it be ? 

Fi7'st Brother. For certain, 

Either some one, Hke us, night-foundered here, 
Or else some neighbour woodman, or at worst 
Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 485 

Second Bi'other. Heaven keep my sister ! Again, 
again, and near ! 
Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 

First Brother. I'll halloo : 

If he be friendly, he comes well ; if not, 
Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us ! 

Enter the Attendant Spirit, habited like a shcphe7-d. 

That halloo I should know. What are you ? speak. 490 
Come not too near ; you fall on iron stakes else. 

Spirit. What voice is that? my young lord? speak 

again. 
Second Brother. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, 

sure ! 
First Brother. Thyrsis ! whose artful strains have oft 
delayed 
The huddhng brook to hear his madrigal, 495 

And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale. 

^38. 



3i6 MINOR POEMS. 

How cam'st thou here, good swain? Hath any ram 
Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, 
Or stragghng wether the pent flock forsook ? 
How could'st thou find this dark sequestered nook? 500 
Spirit. O my loved master's heir, and his next 

joy, 

I came not here on such a trivial toy 

As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth 

Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth 

That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought 505 

To this my errand, and the care it brought. 

But O, my virgin lady, where is she ? 

How chance she is not in your company ? 

First Brother. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without 
blame 
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 510 

Spirit. Ay me unhappy ! then my fears are true. 

First Brother. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee 
briefly shew. 

Spirit. I'll tell ye ; 'tis not vain or fabulous. 
Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance, 
What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse,^ 515 
Storied of old in high immortal verse 
Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles, 
And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell ; ^ 
For such there be, but unbelief is blind. 

Within the navel of this hideous wood, 520 

Immured in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells, 
Of Bacchus ^ and of Circe ^ born, great Comus, 

136. -^23. 353. -^es. 



COMUS. 317 

Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries; 

And here to every thirsty wanderer 

By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, 525 

With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison 

The visage quite transforms of him that drinks. 

And the inglorious likeness of a beast 

Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 

Charactered in the face. This I have learnt 530 

Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts 

That brow this bottom-glade ; whence night by night 

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl 

Like stabled wolves or tigers at their prey. 

Doing abhorred rites to Hecate ^ . 535 

In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. 

Yet have they many baits and guileful spells 

To inveigle and invite the unwary sense 

Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 

This evening late, by then the chewing flocks - 540 

Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 

Of knot-grass dew-besprent and were in fold, 

I sat me down to watch upon a bank 

With ivy canopied and interwove 

With flaunting honeysuckle, and began, 545 

Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy. 

To meditate my rural minstrelsy. 

Till fancy had her fill ; but ere a close 

The wonted roar was up amidst the woods, 

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance ; 550 

At which I ceased, and listened them a while, 



19. 



3i8 MINOR POEMS. 

Till an unusual stop of sudden silence 

Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds, 

That draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep. 

At last a soft and solemn- breathing sound 555 

Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes/ 

And stole upon the air, that even Silence 

^Vas took ere she was ware, and wished she might 

Deny her nature and be never more, 

Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, 560 

And took in strains that might create a soul 

Under the ribs of Death ; but O, ere long 

Too well I did perceive it was the voice 

Of my most honoured lady, your dear sister. 

Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear ; 565 

And ' O poor hapless nightingale,' thought I, 

' How sweet thou singest, how near the deadly snare ! ' 

Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste. 

Through paths and turnings often trod by day. 

Till guided by mine ear I found the place, 570 

Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise — 

For so by certain signs I knew — had met 

Already, ere my best speed could prevent, 

The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey ; 

Who gently asked if he had seen such two, 575 

Supposing him some neighbour villager. 

Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed 

Ye were the two she meant ; with that I sprung 

Into swift flight, till I had found you here. 

But further know I not. 

Second Brother. O night and shades, 580 

How are ye joined with Hell in triple knot, 



COMUS. 319 

Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin, 
Alone and helpless ! Is this the confidence 
You gave me, brother? 

First Brothei'. Yes, and keep it still ; 

Lean on it safely : not a period 585 

Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threats 
Of malice or of sorcery, or that power 
Wh ich erring men call Chance, this I hold firm : 
/Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, 
Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled ; 590 

Yea, even that which mischief meant most harm 
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory : 
But evil on itself shall back recoil. 
And mix no more with goodness, when at last. 
Gathered like scum and settled to itself, 595 

It shall be in eternal restless change 
Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail. 
The pillared firmament is rottenness. 
And earth's base built on stubble. T But come, let's 

on? 
Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 600 

May never this just sword be lifted up ; 
But for that damned magician, let him be girt 
With all the grisly legions that troop 
Under the sooty flag of Acheron,^ 

Harpies "- and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 605 

'Twixt Africa and Ind,^ I'll find him out, 
And force him to return his purchase back, 
Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, 

1 23. ^ 52. ^ 56. 



320 MINOR POEMS. 

Cursed as his life. 

Spirit. Alas ! good venturous youth, 

I love thy courage yet and bold emprise ; 6io p=^ 

But here thy sword can do thee little stead : ' 
Far other arms and other weapons must 
Be those that quell the might of hellish charm. 
He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, 
And crumble all thy sinews. 

First Brother. Why, prithee, shepherd, 615 

How durst thou then thyself approach so near 
As to make this relation ? 

Spirit. Care and utmost shifts 

How to secure the lady from surprisal 
Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad, 
Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled 620 

In every virtuous plant and healing herb 
That spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray. 
He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing ; ^ 

Which when I did, he on the tender grass ^ 

Would sit and hearken e'en to ecstasy, 625 

And in requital ope his leathern scrip, 
And show me simples of a thousand names, 
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties. 
Amongst the rest a small unsightly root. 
But of divine effect, he culled me out. 630 

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it. 
But in another country, as he said. 
Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil : 
Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain 
Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon ; 635 

And yet more med'cinal is it than that moly 



COMUS. 321 

That Hermes ^ once to wise Ulysses ^ gave. 

He called it haemony, and gave it me, 

And bade me keep it as of sovran use 

'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp, 640 

Or ghastly Furies' apparition. 

I pursed it up, but little reckoning made. 

Till now that this extremity compelled ; 

But now I find it true, for by this means 

I knew the foul enchanter though disguised, 645 

Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells, 

And yet came off. If you have this about you — 

As I will give you vvhen we go — you may 

Boldly assault the necromancer's hall ; 

Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood 650 

And brandished blade rush on him, break his glass. 

And shed the luscious liquor on the ground. 

But seize his wand. Though he and his cursed crew 

Fierce signs of battle make and menace high, |^" 

Or, like the sons of Vulcan,'^ vomit smoke, 655 

Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. 

First Brother. Thyrsis, lead on apace ; I'll follow 
thee, 
And some good angel bear a shield before us ! 

The Scene changes to a stately Palace, set out with all 
manner of deliciousness ; soft music, tables spread with 
all dainties, Comus appears with his rabble, and the 
Lady set in an enchanted chair ; to whom he offers his 
glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise. 

1 53. 2 68. 3 45. 

Y 



322 MINOR POEMS. 

Comus. Nay, lady, sit ; if I but wave this wand, 
Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster, 660 

And you a statue, or as Daphne ^ was, 
Root-bound, that fled Apollo. 

Lady. Fool, do not boast ; 

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind 
With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
Thou hast immanacled while Heaven sees good. 665 

Comus. Why are you vext, lady ? why do you frown ? 
Here dwell no frowns nor anger ; from these gates 
Sorrow flies far. See, here be ah the pleasures 
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts. 
When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 670 

Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season. 
And first behold this cordial julep here, 
That flames and dances in his crystal bounds. 
With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed. 
Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone - 675 

In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena^ 
Is of such power to stir up joy as this, 
To Hfe so friendly or so cool to thirst. 
Why should you be so cruel to yourself. 
And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent 680 

For gentle usage and soft delicacy? 
But you invert the covenants of her trust. 
And harshly deal, like an iU borrower. 
With that which you received on other terms ; 
Scorning the unexempt condition 685 

By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 

1 40. 2 65. 3 6^ 



COMUS. 323 

* _ ». 

Refreshment after toil, ease after pain, 
That have been tired all day without repast, 
And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin, 
This will restore all soon. 

Lady. 'Twill not, false traitor ! 690 

'Twill not restore the truth and honesty 
That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies. 
Was this the cottage and the safe abode 
Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these. 
These ugly-headed monsters ? Mercy guard me ! 695 
Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver ! 
Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence 
With visored falsehood and base forgery? 
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here 
With liquorish baits fit to ensnare a brute ? 700 

Were it a draught for Juno ^ when she banquets, 
I would not taste thy treasonous offer. None 
But such as are good men can give goo-d-lMng^; ^' '^^ 
And that which is not good is not delicious 
To a well-governed and wise appetite. 705 

Comus. O foolishness of men ! that lend their ears 
To those budge doctors of the Stoii: fur, 
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub^ 
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence ! 
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth 710 

With such a full and unwithdrawing hand. 
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, 
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, 
But all to please and sate the curious taste ? 



324 MINOR POEMS. 

« 
And set to work millions of spinning worms, 715 

That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk 
To deck her sons ; and that no corner might 
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins 
She hutched the all-worshipped ore and precious gems 
To store her children with. If all the world 720 

Should in a pet of temperance feed on pulse, 
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze. 
The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised, 
Not half his riches known, and yet despised ; 
And we should serve him as a grudging master, 725 

As a penurious niggard of his wealth, 
And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons. 
Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, 
And strangled with her waste fertility : 
The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with 
plumes, 730 

The herds would over-multitude their lords. 
The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought dia- 
monds 
Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, 
And so bestud with stars, that they below 
Would grow inured to light, and come at last 735 

To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. 
List, lady ; be not coy, and be not cozened 
With that same vaunted name, Virginity. 
Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded. 
But must be current ; and the good thereof 740 

Consists in mutual and partaken bliss. 
Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself. 
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose 



COMUS. 325 

It withers on the stalk with languished head. 

Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown 745 

In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities. 

Where most may wonder at the workmanship. 

It is for homely features to keep home ; 

They had their name thence ; coarse complexions 

And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 750 

The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool. 

What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that, 

Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn? 

There was another meaning in these gifts : 

Think what, and be advised ; you are but young yet. 755 

Lady. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips 
In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler 
Would think to charm my judgment as mine eyes. 
Obtruding false rules pranked in reason's garb. 
I hate when Vice can bolt her arguments, 760 

And Virtue has no tongue to check her pride. 
Impostor, do not charge most innocent Nature, 
As if she would her children should be riotous 
With her abundance. She, good cateress, 
Means her provision only to the good, 765 

That live according to her sober laws 
And holy dictate of spare Temperance. 
If every just man that now pines with want 
Had but a moderate and beseeming share 
Of that which lewdly-pampered Luxury 770 

Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, 
Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed 
In unsuperfluous even proportion. 
And she no whit encumbered with her store : 



326 MINOR POEMS. 

And then the Giver would be better thanked, 775 

His praise due paid ; for swinish Gluttony 

Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast, 

But with besotted base ingratitude 

Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on? 

Or have I said enough? To him that dares 780 

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words 

Against the sun-clad power of chastity, 

Fain would I something say, yet to what end ? 

Thou hast not ear nor soul to apprehend 

The sublime notion and high mystery 785 

That must be uttered to unfold the sage 

And serious doctrine of Virginity ; 

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know 

More happiness than this thy present lot. 

Enjoy your dear wit and gay rhetoric, 790 

That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence ; 

Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced. 

Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth 

Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits 

To such a flame of sacred vehemence 795 

That dumb things would be moved to sympathize. 

And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake 

Till all thy magic structures reared so high 

Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head. 

Covins. She fables not. I feel that I do fear Soo 

Her words set off by some superior power : 
And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew 
Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove 
Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus ^ 

123. 



COMUS. 327 

To some of Saturn's crew.^ I must dissemble, 805 

And try her yet more strongly. — Come, no more ! 

This is mere moral babble, and direct 

Against the canon laws of our foundation. 

I must not suffer this : yet 'tis but the lees 

And settlings of a melancholy blood. 810 

But this will cure all straight ; one sip of this ^^ 

Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight /)^ 

Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste. — 

The Brothers 7'ush in with swoj-ds drawn, wrest his glass 
out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his 
rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in. The 
Attendant Spirit comes in. 

Spirit. What ! have you let the false enchanter scape ? 
O, ye mistook ! ye should have snatched his wand, 815 
And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed 
And backward mutters of dissevering powei^ 
We cannot free the lady that sits here 
In stony fetters fixed and motionless. 
Yet stay, be not disturbed : now I bethink me, 820 

Some other means I have which may be used, 
Which once of Melibceus old I learnt, 
The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains. 

There is a gentle Nymph not far from hence, 
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream : 825 
Sabrina ^ is her name, a virgin pure ; 
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,^ 
That had the sceptre from his father Brute.^ 
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit 

1 31. ' 67. 



328 MINOR POEMS. 

Of her enraged stepdame, Guendolen/ 830 

Commended her fair innocence to the flood 

That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course. 

The water-nymphs that in the bottom played 

Held lip their pearled wrists, and took her in, 

Bearing her straight to aged Nereus'- hall ; 835 

Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, 

And gave her to his daughters to imbathe 

In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel, 

And through the porch and inlet of each sense , 

Dropped in ambxosiaLiiils, till she revived, |/^^n>J^ ^^40 

And underwent a quick immortal change. 

Made Goddess of the river. StiU she retains 

Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve 

Visits the herds along the twilight meadows. 

Helping all urchin blasts and ill-luck signs, 845 

That the shrewd meddling elf '^ delights to make. 

Which she with precious vialed hquors heals ; 

For which the shepherds at their festivals 

Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays. 

And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 850 

Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. 

And, as the old swain said, she can unlock 

The clasping charm and thaw the numbing spell. 

If she be right invoked in warbled song ; 

For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift 855 

To aid a virgin, such as was herself. 

In hard-besetting need. This will I try, 

And add the power of some adjuring verse. 

1 67. 2 ^o. 3 19 



COMUS. 329 



Song. 



Sab rina fair, 
Listen where thou art sitting 860 

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave. 

In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ; 
Listen for dear honour's sake. 
Goddess of the silver lake, 865 

Listen and save! 

Listen and appear to us 

In name of great Oceanus ; ^ 

By the earth-shaking Neptune's^ mace, 

And Tethys' grave majestic pace ; 870 

By hoary Nereus' ^ wrinkled look, 

And the Carpathian wizard's ^ hook ; 

By scaly Triton's ^ winding shell, 

And old soothsaying Glaucus' ^ spell ; 

By Leucothea's ^ lovely hands 875 

And her son ^ that rules the strands ; 

By Thetis' ^ tinsel-slippered feet. 

And the songs of Sirens ^ sweet ; 

By dead Parthenope's^ dear tomb, 

And fair Ligea's ^ golden comb, 880 

Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks 

Sleeking her soft alluring locks ; 

By all the nymphs that nightly dance 

Upon thy streams with wily glance. 



1 (^30. 



59- 



33° MINOR POEMS. 

Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head 885 

From thy coral-paven bed, 
And bridle in thy headlong wave. 
Till thou our summons answered have. 
Listen and save ! 

Sabrina rises, attended by zvater-nymphs, and sings. 

By the rushy-fringed bank, 890 

Where groiv the luillow and the osier dank, 

My sliding chariot stays, 
Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen 
0/ turkis blue, ajid emerald green, 

That in the channel strays ; 895 

Whilst from off the iv ate rs fleet 
Th us I set my prin tless feet 
O'er the cowslip's velvet head. 
That bends not as I tread. 

Gentle swain, at thy request 900 

I am here! 

Spirit. Goddess dear. 
We implore thy powerful hand 
To undo the charmed band 

Of true virgin here distrest, 905 

Through the force and through the wile 
Of unblest enchanter vile. 

Sabri7ia. Shepherd, 'tis my office best 
To help ensnared chastity. 

Brightest lady, look on me. 910 

Thus I sprinkle on thy breast 
Drops that from my fountain pure 



COMUS. 331 

I have kept of precious cure ; 

Thrice upon thy finger's tip, 

Thrice upon thy rubied Hp : 915 

Next this marble venomed seat, 

Smeared with gums of glutinous heat, 

I touch with chaste palms moist and cold. 

Now the spell hath lost his hold ; 

And I must haste ere morning hour 920 

To wait in Amphitrite's ^ bower. 

Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat. 

Spirit. Virgin, daughter of Locrine,^ 
Sprung of old Anchises' line,- 
May thy brimmed waves for this 
Their full tribute never miss 925 

From a thousand petty rills 
That tumble down the snowy hills ; 
Summer drouth or singed air f 
Never scorch thy tresses fair, 
Nor wet October's torrent flood 930 

Thy molten crystal fill with mud ; 
May thy billows roll ashore 
The beryl and the golden ore ; 
May thy lofty head be crowned 
With many a tower and terrace round, 935 

And here and there thy banks upon 
With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. 

Come, lady, while Heaven lends us grace, 
Let us fly this cursed place, 

1 49- ^ 67. 



332 MINOR POEMS. 

Lest the sorcerer us entice 940 

With some other new device. 

Not a waste or needless sound 

Till we come to holier ground. 

I shall be your faithful guide 

Through this gloomy covert wide ; 945 

And not many furlongs thence 

Is your father's residence, 

Where this night are met in state 

Many a friend to gratulate 

His wished presence, and beside 950 

All the swains that there abide 

With jigs and rural dance resort. 

We shall catch them at their sport, 

And our sudden coming there 

Will double all their mirth and cheer. 955 

Come, let us haste ; the stars grow high, 

But Night sits monarch yet in the mid-sky. 

The Scene changes, pj-esenfiiig Ludlow toiun and the Pres- 
ident's castle; then co?ne in Country Dancer's; after 
them the Ati'endant Spirit, luith the two Brothers 
and the Lady. 

Song. 

Spirit. Back, shepherds, back I enough your play 
Till next sunshine holiday. 

Here be, without duck or nod, 960 

Other trippings to be trod 
Of lighter toes, and such court guise 
As Mercury ^ did fii^st devise 



COMUS. 333 

With tJie niinciuij; Dryadcs ^ 

On the lawns and on the leas. 965 

This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother. 

Noble lord and lady bright, 

I have brought ye new delight. 

Here behold so goodly grown 

Three fair branches of your own. 

Heaven hath timely tried their youth, 970 

Their faith, their patience, and their truth. 

And sent them here tlwough hard assays 

With a croivn of deathless praise, 

To triumph in victoiHous dance 

O'er sensual folly and intemperance. 975 

The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes. 

Spirit. To the ocean now I fly, 
And those happy dimes that He 
Where Day never shuts his eye, 
Up in the broad fields of the sky. 
There I suck the Uquid air 980 

All amidst the gardens fair 
Of Hesperus ^ and his daughters three 
That sing about the golden tree. 
Along the crisped shades and bowers 
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring ; 985 

The Graces ^ and the rosy-bosomed Hours ^ 
Thither all their bounties bring. 
There eternal summer dwells, 

1 51, ^ 61, 62. 3 52. 



334 MINOR POEMS. 

And west winds with musky wing 

About the cedarn alleys fling 990 

Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 

Iris^ there with humid bow 

Waters the odorous banks, that blow 

Flowers of more mingled hue 

Than her purfled scarf can shew ; 995 

And drenches with Elysian- dew — 

List, mortals, if your ears be true ! — 

Beds of hyacinth and roses, 

Where young Adonis^ oft reposes. 

Waxing well of his deep wound 1000 

In slumber soft, and on the ground 

Sadly sits the Assyrian queen.'' 

But far above in spangled sheen 

Celestial Cupid,^ her famed son, advanced 

Holds his dear Psyche,^ sweet entranced 1*05 

After her wandering labours long, 

Till free consent the gods among 

Make her his eternal bride. 

And from her fair unspotted side 

Two blissful twins are to be born, loio 

Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn. 

But now my task is smoothly done, 
I can fiy, or I can run 
Quickly to the green earth's end. 
Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend, 1015 
And from thence can soar as soon 

I53. 223. 347. 446. MS. 



COMUS. 335 



To the corners of the moon. 

Mortals, that would follow me, 
Love Virtue ; she alone is free. 
She can teach ye how to cHmb 
Higher than the sphery chime ; ^ 
Or, if Virtue feeble were. 
Heaven itself would stoop to her. 



INTRODUCTION TO LYCIDAS. 

General Char'aderistics. 

Lycidas is the last fruit of Milton's period of self-culture at 
Horton, while as yet life had not chastened or perfected his 
poetic powers. Written reluctantly, as the opening lines indi- 
cate, in response to the call of duty and affection, it relies more 
than any other of his poems upon ad herence to tradition s atid 
■ imitation of co mLenlional models. Yet in spite of its rigid for- 
malism, it is energized through and through with the vital 
power of his poetic genius. 

The poem is important to the student because it exemplifies 
a type of poetry that is at the same time of great antiquity, of 
comparative rarity, and, when finely executed, of the highest 
poetical excellence. This type, the pastoral, is so alien to the 
taste and habits of thought of the present day, that it cannot 
be comprehended and appreciated fully without some effort on 
the part of the reader to enter sympathetically into the mood 
of the author, and such preparatory study as will serve to make 
clear the causes which called it into being. Thereby what at 
first seemed artificial and strange is made to seem only natural, 
although quaint, and the charm inherent in the form is able 
to make itself felt. 

Pastoral poetry had its origin in the glamour which rural 
life, when viewed only in its external aspects, often presents to 
the city-dweller. When he compares that life with his own, 
the one seems delightfully simple, the other distressingly com- 
plex, the one placid, the other feverish and harassing, the one 
innocent, the other sophisticated and corrupt. Thus the 

2>3^ 



INTRODUCTION TO LYCIDAS. 337 

Greek colonists in Sicily were struck with the quality of the life 
among the native population of the island. The placid life of 
the shepherds, whose long, eventless days were spent in lolling 
under a tree in sight of their flocks and improvising sprightly 
or plaintive melodies upon a rudely fashioned rustic pipe, the 
competency gained without effort through the natural increase 
of flocks and herds instead of through the strenuous rivalry of 
commerce, the simple loves and hates of a primitive people, 
and the beautiful background of field, forest, and stream which 
harmoniously set off this gentle life, — all these appealed to the 
keen esthetic sensibilities of the Greek colonists, and finally 
found expression in the works of Theocritus, Bion, and Mos- 
chus (300-200 B.C.), the creators of the technical "pastoral." 
These writers were the first to treat with conscious art the 
naive and spontaneously effective features in the rural life 
about them. They produced numerous short lyrics or dra- 
matic poems on such themes as a rustic contest in musical 
improvisation, the death of a shepherd, or the plaints of an 
enamored swain over the indifference and coquetry of his 
mistress. Poems on themes treated with accessory descrip- 
tions of landscapes and objects were called idylls (— "little 
pictures"), and were faithful representations of rustic life. 
Two hundred years later, when Rome had become imbued 
with Greek culture, Theocritus found an imitator in Virgil, 
who reproduced the essential features of his work, but in a 
new spirit. In his hands pastoralism became merely " a par- 
ticular mode of poetic expression, whereby any phase or 
thought whatever might be set forth under the guise of 
descriptions of country life." Thus arises a distinction 
between the form and the substance of a pastoral. The lyrics 
of Theocritus really treated of Sicilian shepherd life ; they 
were pastoral both in form and in substance. Those of Virgil, 
employing the same names, and depicting the same scenes, 
were really concerned with Romans and Roman life ; they 



338 INTRODUCTION TO 

were pastoral in form but not in substance. Thus arose the 
artificial allegorical pastoral, which attained a fresh popularity 
in Italy during the later Middle Ages ; and later, when the 
great wave of Renaissance culture broke on the shores of Eng- 
land, and the artificiality in Elizabethan social life tended to 
create the same exaggerated enthusiasm for simplicity which 
had given rise to the original pastorals, it found a welcome at 
the hands of Breton, Sidney, Spenser, and finally of Milton. 

It follows from the above that in studying the allegorical 
pastoral type the pupil is acquainting himself with a sort of 
universal language in which the life of all preceding ages has 
from time to time found expression, and it is his task, in read- 
ing any particular poem, to interpret it in the light of the cir- 
cumstances under which that poem was written. This language 
relies upon certain names ((^.g. Arcadia, Thyrsis), certain 
references to Myths (e.g. Alpheus and Arethusa*), certain tra- 
ditional symbols (e.g. laurel for poetry, cypress for death), and 
certain conventional fictions (e.g. that that poem is a song 
sung to the accompaniment of a reed or " oaten " pipe, that all 
scenes are country scenes, and all tasks country tasks) . 

* The river Alpheus flowed through a portion of the district of 
Arcadia, in Greece, the .traditional home of pastoralism. It then 
disappeared in a chasm, and was believed to flow beneath the sea 
and reappear in the Fountain Arethusa, at Syracuse, in Sicily. The 
myth arose that Alpheus, god of the river, had formerly fallen in 
love with an Arcadian nymph named Arethusa, and, as she fled at 
his approach, had pursued her underground from Arcadia to Sicily, 
where their lives became joined in the above-mentioned fountain. 
Later, this myth was interpreted as expressing symbolically the 
manner in which the stream of Greek Hterary production, deep and 
strong in the works of the native poets, took on the gentler pastoral 
quality in the poetry of Theocritus, Bion, and other Sicilian writers. 
Thus, " Alpheus " may stand for the poetry of Theocritus, as " Min- 
cius " (a stream near Virgil's birthplace) stands for Virgil's pasto- 
ral work. 



LYCIDAS. ' 339 

When Lycidas is examined in the light of these facts, it is 
found to be a pastoral of the most formal type. In it Cam- 
bridge University becomes a " hill " of learning, the labor of 
study becomes driving a team afield or battening flocks, college 
sports become rustic merrymakings, the student becomes the 
shepherd Lycidas, and his instructor becomes an older shep- 
herd, Damcetas. In it also Nature becomes peopled with 
nymphs, satyrs, fauns, and genii, and common objects are 
given a symbolic significance. In it the Christian religion 
wears the guise of antiquity, so that the Deity whom Milton 
serves is feigned to be Phoebus, god of poetry, and the power 
that guides his pen is attributed to the 

" Sisters of the sacred well 
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring." 

If this method of treatment seems to the student to give to 
pastoral poetry a highly artificial character, he should remem- 
ber that this artificiality is more than compensated for by the 
fact that pastoralism draws for its beauty of thought and of 
diction from that perennial fount of all beauty, Nature herself. 

Histofy. 

From its earliest appearance the pastoral type has been a 
favorite one with poets for the expression of sorrow over the 
death of a friend. Thus the Lycidas. composed in 1639, was 
a fitting expression of Milton's grief over the death of an asso- 
ciate in the University. This friend, Edward King, son of Sir 
John King, Secretary for Ireland, was a young man of elevated 
character and scholarly attainments. In the University he 
had vied with Milton in the field of poetic composition, and 
like Milton, had looked forward to service in the Church as a 
profession. While Milton, with changed purpose, left the 
University in 1632 and retired to Horton, King, having become 
a Fellow of Christ College, remained connected with the Uni- 



340 INTRODUCTION TO LYCIDAS. 

versity for five years more. On August lo, 1637, he sailed 
from Chester on a vacation tour to visit his former tutor Chap- 
pell, now become Provost of Trinity College, DubUn. While 
still within sight of land, the ship struck on a rock, foundered, 
and nearly all on board perished, King being seen kneeling in 
the act of prayer as the ship sank. Two volumes of memorial 
verse, containing no less than thirty-six tributes in Latin, 
Greek, and English, were published by his friends at the Uni- 
versity, and to one of these Milton contributed the Lycidas, 
signed J. M., and dated November, 1637. In its classic 
spirit and refinement of taste it is in marked contrast with the 
other effusions, many of which are tainted with the puerile and 
affected conceits of the new school of poetry then being 
developed by Donne and his contemporaries. 

Not only was the pastoral form adopted by Milton suitable 
in an elegy written by a scholar for scholars, but it also lent 
itself especially well to the carrying out of the purpose which 
Milton seems never to have lost sight of, — the proclaiming 
of some high ethical message to the world. In this case the 
message was twofold ; a scathing rebuke and warning to the 
Church which King would have so worthily served, and a 
triumphant assertion of the immortality of man's soul and of 
his achievements, secured through Christ's loving sacrifice. 
Since Christ has always been represented as the Shepherd of 
the Church, it was easy to incorporate these matters with the 
main subject of the poem without departing from pastoral 
forms of expression. 

For7n. 

In its metrical form Lycidas is unique. The irregularly 
recurring rhymes, the occasional unrhymed lines, the rare 
lapses from pentameter into trimeter, the wholly elastic stanza 
groups by which the swell and subsidence of each wave of 
emotion is set off from its fellows, form a " tour de force " in 
poetic technique which is worthy of the most detailed study. 




^.^^•/..--^ 



LYCIDAS. 

\_ln this Monody the author bewails a learned Friend^ unfor- 
tunately drow7ied in his passage from Chester on the 
Irish seas, 1637 ; aftd by occasion foretells the rnin of our 
corriipted Clergy, then in their height. '\ 

^Yet once more, O ye laurels/ and once more, 
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 
And with forced fingers rude 

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 

Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear 
Compel me to disturb your season due ; 
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime. 
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. 
Who would not sing for Lycidas? He knew 
Himself to sing and build the lofty rhyme. / ^^,< ' '' 
He must not float upon his watery bier r 
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 
Without the meed of some melodious tear. 
Begin then. Sisters of the sacred well , . ^ 
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring ; ^ 
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. 
Hence with denial vain and coy excuse ; 
So may some gentle Muse 

1 40. 2 36. 

341 



342 MINOR POEMS. 

With lucky words favour my destined urn, 20 

And as he passes turn, 

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud ! 

For we were nursed upon the selfsame hill, 
Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill ; 
Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 25 

Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, 
We drove a-field, and both together heard 
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn. 
Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night. 
Oft till the star that rose at evening bright 30 

Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. 
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, 
Tempered to the oaten flute ; 

Rough Satyrs ^ danced, and Fauns ^ with cloven heel 
From the glad sound would not be absent long, 35 

And old Damoetas loved to hear our song. 

But O the heavy change, now thou art gone. 
Now thou art gone and never must return ! 
Thee, shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves. 
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, 40 

And all their echoes mourn. 
The willows and the hazel copses green 
Shall now no more be seen 
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 
As killing as the canker to the rose, 45 

Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze. 
Or frost to flowers that their gay wardrobe wear. 
When first the white- thorn blows, 

^51. 



/ 




uWx 









Faun, Satyr, and I'astoral pipts " of various quills." 

Lycidas, 34, 18S. 



LYCIDAS. 343 

Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 

Where were ye, Nymphs,^ when the remorseless deep 50 
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas? 
For neither were ye playing on the steep 
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie. 
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high. 
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. 55 

Ay me ! I fondly dream, 

" Had ye been there " — for what could that have done ? 
What could the Muse herself that 'Orpheus bore,^w£^^„ 
The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, ' 

Whom universal nature did lament, 60 

When by the rout that made the hideous roar 
His gory visage down the stream was sent, 
Down the swift Hebrus^ to the Lesbian^ shore? 

Alas ! what boots it with incessant care 
To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, 65 

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? 
Were it not better done, as others use. 
To sport with Amarylhs in the shade. 
Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair? 
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise — 70 
That last infirmity of noble mind — 
To scorn delights and Jive J^borious days ; 
But the fair guefdoh when we hope to find. 
And think to burst out into sudden blaze. 
Comes the tlind'Fury^ with the abhorred shears, /it"'^*^'*^^*^ 
And slits the thin-spun life. '' But not the praise," 
Phoebus '^ repHed, and touched my trembling ears ; 

I51. 242. 342. * 52, 54- ^38- 



344 MINOR POEMS. 

" Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 

Nor in the glistering foil 

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, 80 

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes 

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; 

As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 

Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed." 

O fountain Arethuse,^ and thou honoured flood, 85 

Smooth-sliding Mincius,^ crowned with vocal reeds, 
That strain I heard was of a higher mood. 
But now my oat proceeds, 
And listens to the herald of the sea 

That came in Neptune's ^ plea. 90 

He asked the waves and asked the felon winds. 
What hard mishap hath doomed this gende swain? 
And questioned every gust of rugged wings 
That blows from off each beaked promontory. 
They knew not of his story ; 95 

And sage Hippotades ^ their answer brings. 
That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed : 
The air was calm, and on the level brine 
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. 
It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 100 

Built in the eclipse,'' and rigged with curses dark. 
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 

Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow. 
His manUe hairy, and his bonnet sedge. 
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105 

Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.^ 

1 See note, p. 338. 2 ^^^ 3^2. ^13. ^41. 



LYCIDAS. 345 

" Ah ! who hath reft," quoth he, " my dearest pledge ? " 

Last came, and last did go, 

The pilot of the Galilean lake; ^ 

Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, no 

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain.) 

He shook his mitred locks,^ and stern bespake : 

" How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, 

Enow of such as for their bellies' sake 

Creep, and intrude, and cHmb into the fold ! 115 

Of other care they little reckoning make 

Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, 

And shove away the worthy bidden guest. 

Blind mouths ! that scarce themselves know how to hold 

A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least 120 

That to the faithful herdman's art belongs ! 

What recks it them ? What need they ? They are sped ; 

And, when they Hst, their lean and flashy songs 

Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw. 

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 125 

But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, 

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; 

Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 

Daily devours apace, and nothing said. 

But that two-handed engine at the door 130 

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more." 

Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past 
That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, 
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. - 135 

1 89, note. 



346 MINOR POEMS. 

Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 

Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks. 

On whose fresh lap the swart star ^ sparely looks, 

Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes. 

That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 140 

And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 

Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 

The tufted crow-toe and pale jessamine. 

The white pink and the pansy freaked with jet. 

The glowing violet, 145 

The musk-rose and the well-attired woodbine. 

With cowsUps wan that hang the pensive head 

And every flower that sad embroidery wears : 

Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, 

And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 150 

To strew the laureate- hearse where Lycid Hes. 

For so, to interpose a little ease. 

Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. 

Ay me ! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 

Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled : 155 

Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 

Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide 

Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world; 

Or whether thou, to our moist vovifs denied, 

Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus^ old, 160 

Where the great vision of the guarded mount ^ 

Looks toward Namancos '^ and Bayonst's ^ hold : — 

Look homeward. Angel, now, and melt with ruth. 

And, O ye dolphins,'* waft the hapless youth ! 



1I6, 


"Sirius." 


240. 


3 19. 


*39. 





LYCIDAS. 347 

Weep no more, vvoful shepherds, weep no more, 165 
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, 
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. 
So smks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
And yet anon repairs his drooping head. 
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 170 

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : 
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 
Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves ; 
Where, other groves and other streams along. 
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 175 

And hears the unexpressive nuptial song 
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
There entertain him all the saints above. 
In solemn troops and sweet societies. 
That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 

And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 
iSIow, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; 
Henceforth thou art the Genius ^ of the shore, 
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
To all that wander in that perilous flood. 185 

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills. 
While the still Morn went out with sandals gray. 
He touched the tender stops of various quills, . ^ 

With eager thought warbling his L)oric - lay ; ^^ 

And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 190 

And now was dropt into the western bay. 
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue : 
To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new. 

1 51. '^ See Glossary, " Doris." 



INTRODUCTION TO THE SONNETS. 

General Characteristics. 

Milton's Sonnets have a threefold interest for the student. 
In the first place, they are representatives of what has often 
been claimed to be the most perfect of all lyric types, a type 
so exacting in its requirements that only consummate skill can 
fully exhaust its possibilities of effective expression, and so 
essentially artistic that in it the highest poetic impulse may 
find adequate presentation. Secondly, they are of the highest 
importance in the study of Milton's life and character, nearly 
all being addressed to persons with whom Milton was inti- 
mately associated, or expressing his attitude upon matters of 
public policy or of conduct which he considered to be very 
important. In the third place the intrinsic poetic merit of 
certain ones, which attain the highest possible level of 
excellence, notably the Sonnets To Cyriac Shnner and 
0?t his Blindness, have given them an importance in classic 
literature wholly independent of their authorship. 

The Sonnet had its origin in Italy about the middle of the 
fourteenth century, since which date poets have labored inces- 
santly to develop and perfect the type. Perhaps no other 
lyric type is subject to such stringent rules as is the Sonnet. 
According to accepted conventions (i) a Sonnet must be the 
complete expression of a single thought or mood ; (2) it must 
consist of exactly fourteen lines of iambic pentameter ; (3) it 
must consist of two parts, an " octave " and a " sestet," the 
octave being composed of two twin-rhymed quatrains of the 
type a, b, b, a, and the sestet being composed of two " ter- 
cets " rhymed on two more sounds (c and d) or on three (c, d, 

348 



INTRODUCTION TO THE SONNETS. 349 

and e), in any desired order ; * (4) the thought in each division 
must sustain a definite relation to the whole, the octave con- 
taining a complete exposition of the subject to be treated or 
the mood to be voiced in the Sonnet, and the sestet containing 
the result of the poet's reflections upon that subject, or the 
outcome of indulging that mood. 

According to Mr. William Sharp, three distinct types of 
the Sonnet may be recognized. The pure type is that 
described above, which was perfected in Italy, and may be 
called the Petrarchan form. The second is that invented by 
Shakespeare, and consists of three quatrains and a closing 
rhymed couplet, — a departure from the normal type so radi- 
cal that many critics are inclined to deny that the name Sonnet 
may properly be applied to it. The third class may be called 
the Miltonic type, since it is distinguished by a departure from 
the original type which Milton first ventured to introduce, 
namely, the omission of any sharply-marked line of cleavage in 
thought or form between the octave and the sestet. Although 
the feature is found in most of Milton's Sonnets, yet they include 
also examples of both the Petrarchan and the Shakespearean 
types. 

* An examination of the eighteen Sonnets following will show 
that seven have their sestets rhymed in the order 

c, d, c, — d, c, d ; 
five have twin tercets of the form 

c, d, e ; 
in two, the sestets are rhymed in this order, 

(T, d, d, — c, d, c ; 
in two, the order is, 

c, d^ e, — d, c, e ; 
in one, the order is, 

c, d, e, — e, e, d ; 
and the sestet of the remaining one is of the Shakespearean type, 
consisting of a quatrain of the form 

c, d^ d, c 
(like those in the octave), followed by a rhymed couplet 
c, e. 



SONNETS. 
I. 

ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE. 

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, 

Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year ! 

My hasting days fly on with full career. 

But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. 

Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth 

That I to manhood am arrived so near ; 

And inward ripeness doth much less appear. 

That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th. 

Yet, be it less or more, or soon or slow. 

It shall be still in strictest measure even i 

To that same lot, however mean or high. 

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven. 

All is, if I have grace to use it so, 

As ever in my great Taskmaster's eye. 

H. 

^ TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 

O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray 
Warblest at eve when all the woods are still, 

350 



. SONNETS. 351 

Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, 

While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. 

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, 5 

First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, 

Portend success in love. O, if Jove's will 

Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, 

Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate 

Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ; 10 

As thou from year to year hast sung too late 

For my relief, yet hadst no reason why. 

Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate, 

Both them I serve, and of their train am I. 

III. 

WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY. 

Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, 

Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, 

If deed of honour did thee ever please. 

Guard them, and him within protect from harms. 

He can requite thee, for he knows the charms 5 

That call fame on such gentle acts as these. 

And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas. 

Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. 

Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower : 

The great Emathian conqueror bid spare ic 

The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower 

Went to the ground ; and the repeated air 

Of sad Electra's poet had the power 

To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. 



352 MINOR POEMS.. 

IV. 

TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. 

Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth 

Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green, 

And with those few art eminently seen 

That labour up the hill of heavenly truth, 

The better part with Mary and with Ruth 

Chosen thou hast ; and they that overween, 

And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen. 

No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. 

Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends 

To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light. 

And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure 

Thou, when the Bridegroom with his feastful friends 

Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night. 

Hast gained thy entrance, virgin wise and pure. 

V. 

TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. 

Daughter to that good Earl, once President 
Of England's Council and her Treasury, 
Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee. 
And left them both, more in himself content, 
Till the sad breaking of that Parliament 
Broke him, as that dishonest victory 
At Chaeronea, fatal to hberty. 
Killed with report that old man eloquent ; 
Though later born than to have known the days 



SONNETS. 353 



Wherein your father flourished, yet by you, 
Madam, methinks I see him Hving yet : 
So well your words his noble virtues praise 
That all both judge you to relate them true 
And to possess them, honoured Margaret. 



VI. 



ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING 
CERTAIN TREATISES. 

A BOOK was writ of late called Tetrachordon, 
And woven close, both matter, form, and style : 
The subject new : it walked the town a while, 
Numbering good intellects ; now seldom pored on. 
Cries the stall-reader, " Bless us ! what a word on 5 

A title-page is this ! " and some in file 
Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile- 
End Green. Why is it harder, sirs, than Gordon, 
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp? 

Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek, 10 
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. 
Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek, 
Hated not learning worse than toad or asp. 
When thou taught'st Cambridge and King Edward Greek. 

VII. 

ON THE SAME. 

I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs 
By the known rules of ancient liberty, 



354 MINOR POEMS. 

When straight a barbarous noise environs me 

Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs ; 

As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs 

Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny, 

Which after held the sun and moon in fee. 

But this is got by casting pearl to hogs. 

That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, 

And still revolt when truth would set them free. 

License they mean when they cry Liberty ; 

For who loves that must first be wise and good : 

But from that mark how far they rove we see. 

For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood. 

VIIL 

TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS. 

Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song 

First taught our English music how to span 

Words with just note and accent, not to scan 

With Midas' ears, committing short and long, 

Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, 

With praise enough for Envy to look wan : 

To after age thou shalt be writ the man 

That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue. 

Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing 

To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire, 

That tun'st their happiest Hues in hymn or story. 

Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higher 

Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing 

Met in the milder shades of Purgatory. 



SONNETS. 355 



IX. 

ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON, 
MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND. 

When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, 

Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, 

Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 

Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever. 

Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, 5 

Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were trod, 

But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod, 

Followed thee up to joy and bliss for ever. 

Love led them on ; and Faith, who knew them best 

Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams ic 

And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, 

And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes 

Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest 

And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. 

X. 

TO MR. LAWRENCE. 

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son, 

Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire, 

Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire 

Help waste a sullen day, what may be won 

From the hard season gaining? Time will run 5 

On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire 

The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 

The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun. 



356 MINOR POEMS. 

What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, 
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 
To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice 
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? 
He who of those delights can judge, and spare 
To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 

XI. 

TO CYRIAC SKINNER. ^^ 

Cyriac, whose grandsire on the royal bench 
Of British Themis, with no mean applause 
Pronounced and in his volumes taught our laws. 
Which others at their bar so often wrench, 
To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench 
In mirth that after no repenting draws ; 
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause. 
And what the Swede intend, and what the French. 
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way ; 
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains. 
And disapproves that care, though wise in show. 
That with superfluous burden loads the day, 
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. 

XII. 

TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX. 

Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings. 
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise, 



SONNETS. 357 

And all her jealous monarchs with amaze 

And rumours loud that daunt remotest kings, 

Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings 5 

Victory home, though new rebellions raise 

Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays 

Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. 

O, yet a nobler task awaits thy hand — 

For what can war but endless war still breed ? — lo 

Till truth and right fi-om violence be freed. 

And public faith cleared from the shameful brand 

Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed, 

While Avarice and Rapine share the land. 

XHI. 

TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL. 

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud 

Not of war only, but detractions rude, 

Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, 

To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed. 

And on the back of crowned Fortune proud 5 

Hast reared God's trophies and his work pursued, 

While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued. 

And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, 

And Worcester's laureate wreath : yet much remains 

To conquer still ; Peace hath her victories 10 

No less renowned than War : new foes arise. 

Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. 

Help us to save free conscience from the paw 

Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. 



358 MINOR POEMS. 

XIV. 

TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. 

Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old, 

Than whom a better senator ne'er held 

The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled 

The fierce Epirot and the African bold, 

Whether to settle peace or to unfold 5 

The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled ; 

Then to advise how war may best upheld 

Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, 

In all her equipage : besides to know 

Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, lo 

What severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done. 

The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : 

Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans 

In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. 

XV. 

on his blindness. 

When I consider how my light is spent 

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 

And that one talent w^hich is death to hide 

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 5 

My true account, lest He returning chide, — 

'' Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" 

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, '' God doth not need 

Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best lo 



SONNETS. 359 

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 
Is kingly : thousands at his bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
They also serve who only stand and wait." 

XVI. 

ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT. 

Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones 

Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold ; 

Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old. 

When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, 

Forget not : in thy book record their groans 5 

Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 

Slain by the bloody Piemontese that rolled 

Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 

The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 

To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow lo 

O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway 

The triple Tyrant ; that from these may grow 

A hundredfold, who having learnt thy way 

Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 

XVII. 

TO CYRIAC SKINNER, ON HIS BLINDNESS. 

Cyriac, this three years' day these eyes, though clear 

To outward view of blemish or of spot, 

Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; 

Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear 

Of sun or moon or star, throughout the year, 5 



36o MINOR POEMS. 

Or man or woman. Yet I argue not 

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot 

Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer 

Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? 

The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied lo 

In Liberty's defence, my noble task. 

Of which all Europe rings from side to side. 

This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask 

Content, though blind, had I no better guide. 



XVIIL ^ 



ON HIS DECEASED WIFE. 

Methought I saw my late espoused saint 
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, 
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave. 
Rescued from death by force though pale and faint. 
Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint 
Purification in the old Law did save. 
And such as yet once more I trust to have 
Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, 
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. 
Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight 
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined 
So clear as in no face with more delight. 
But O, as to embrace me she inclined, 
I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night ! 



NOTES ON THE MINOR POEMS. 



These notes and questions aim to call attention to the literary art 
of the compositions. It is assumed that the pupil will employ the 
glossary and the introduction in elucidating the meaning of the 
poems, without repeated injunctions to do so. 

HYiMN ON THE NATIVITY. 

Introduction. Note the direct announcement of the subject of 
the poem. 2. What gain in poetic suggestiveness through the use 
of this title instead of the phrase Son of God ? 8, 9. Are these 
lines tautological, or do " light " and " blaze " suggest two distinct 
attributes of deity ? 19. Is the mixture of heathen with Christian 
conceptions in good taste ? Note other examples in the poem. 
What change in the character and meaning of the words " wizards " 
(23), "prevent" (24), "quire" (27),since the time of Milton? Note 
how in the Introduction many of the leading conceptions to be 
developed in the poem are briefly indicated, — the humble circum- 
stances of Christ's birth, his mission of redemption and peace to 
man, his glory, and his heavenly attendants. 

The Hymn, 29-124. These lines contain a word-painting of the 
aspect of Nature at Christ's advent. What materials in the picture 
does Milton draw from history ? What from classic traditions ? 
What from his poetic invention ? Note how prosaic facts (^e.g. that 
the season was winter, that there were no international wars in 
progress at the time) are transmuted into poetry through the exer- 
cise of the imagination, snow becoming a "veil," kings being con- 
ceived as refraining from aggression through an unaccountable '* awe " 
in the presence of a power that they do not comprehend, etc. Note 
the gain in effectiveness through the use of concrete images (" the 
heaven-born child all meanly wrapped,'''' " the rtide manger," " the 
hooked chariot," "unstained with hostile blood '^). Note the sym- 

361 



362 ^ MINOR POEMS. 

bolic meaning of '■'■olive green," '■'turtle wing," "myrtle wand." 
Why is the selection of Lucifer (74) to warn the stars appropriate? 
In what sense is Christ called " Pan " (89), and why is the title 
expressive in this connection ? Why is " Nature " limited by Milton 
to the space " beneath the hollow round of Cynthia's seat " ? In 
these eleven stanzas, does Milton exhibit more powers of original 
creation or of adaptation of preexisting materials ? 

125-164. This passage sets forth in prophetic strain the import 
of the Advent to man. What two emotions does the thought of 
the Advent, in its immediate (149 -f) and its remote (135+) 
aspects, awaken in the poet's mind ? Note how the first -mentioned 
subject of the poem, "the Heaven-born Child," is employed (151) • 
to effect the transition from one to the other emotional state. Note 
the impressive effect of the abrupt transition from a picture of 
peace to one of awe and terror, and how it suggests the shock of 
the first blast of the trump of doom. Why is Vanity described 
(136) as being speckled ? Wliat is the symbolism of the "age of 
gold" (135)? Of the "rainbow" (143)? What is the force of 
"return" in line 142? Note the onomatopoetic effect of the con- 
sonant and vowel sounds in lines 156 and 164, Note the harmony 
between the extra length of the line and the character of the scene 
described, 

165-236. These stanzas rehearse the blessings wrought through 
Christ's advent, in the shape of the overthrow of evil religions, 
which thenceforth will be discredited among mankind. What 
change in man's conception of his relations to the Deity is referred 
to in stanza XIX? Of what religion is the Old Dragon (168) a 
symbol? The Delphic oracle (180)? The Lars and Lemures 
(191)? Peor and Baalim (197)? Isis and Orus (212) ? Ghosts 
and fays (234-235)? Is the order in which they are mentioned a 
studied one? Compare this order with that employed in the list of 
gods in Paradise Lost, 381 +, and note the reason given for that 
order. Compare the treatment of the deities in the two poems, 
and state Milton's theory of the origin of the heathen gods. These 
descriptions are full of expressive epithets, by which the imagination 
is stimulated. Why, for example, is the noise in the temples of the 



NOTES. 363 

oracles hideous (174)? What historical facts does the phrase 
"words deceiving" (175) recall? Why is Apollo's shriek (178) 
hollow? Why is the priest (180) pale-eyed? Why does Milton 
describe the mountains (181) as lonely? 

Conclusion, 236, 244. Note how much force is gained by the 
fiction of direct vision. Also note how the effect of unity is given 
to the entire poem by leading the mind back to the point of depar- 
ture, — the new-born Christ. But note that now the aspect of the 
scene is greatly changed by the introduction of different accessories. 
The stable with its " rude manger " is now perceived to be " courtly." 
The warmth of mother-love, not the chill of winter, encircles the 
babe. For the adoration of the earth-born wizards is substituted 
the homage of a body-guard of " bright-harnessed angels." 

L'ALLEGRO AND IL PENSEROSO. 

L' Allegro, i-io. Because of which of Venus' attributes does Milton 
select her (14) to be the parent of Euphrosyne ? Contrast the kind 
of mirth that springs from the union of Venus and Bacchus, with the 
kind that is born of Zephyr and Aurora. Which genealogy would 
Milton probably prefer ? Lines 25-34 are celebrated for their use 
of clear-cut consonant sounds to express hght, springy movement. 
In what sense does Milton use the expression " Wanton wiles " ? 
" Wreathed smiles ? " " Wrinkled care ? " Why isLiberty called 
a mountain nymph ? With line 41 begins Milton's description of 
the series of pleasures consonant with the mood of L'Allegro. The 
failure of the untrained reader to appreciate these charming pic- 
tures is largely due to the fact that his mind does not actively 
cooperate with the poet and visuahze in definite images the scenes 
presented. The pupil should constantly stimulate his own imagina- 
tion by questions. E.g. " Where is L'Allegro when the lark startles 
the dull night? Who is really startled? Why is the word 'startle ' 
singularly well chosen? With what is the Dawn dappled? Who 
comes to the window? W^hy does L'Allegro prefer to be 'not 
unseen ' ? " Note the lively enthusiasm expressed by the massing 
of details in lines 64 to 68.. What suggestion is conveyed by the 



364 MINOR POEMS. 

word " lies " (79) ? Whence are the names Corydon, Thyrsis, Phillis, 
derived, and why are they appropriate in this passage? Should 
you prefer the use of English names? Are " messes " (85), " sweat " 
(105), "lubber" (no), "hairy" (112), " crop-full ""(n 3), poetic 
words? Is their employment here justifiable? What is the symbol- 
ism of Hymen's " saffron" robe (126) ? Of the sock (132) ? Note 
Milton's discriminating characterization of Jonson's and Shake- 
speare's work in the phrases " learned sock " and " native wood- 
notes." Note how the reference to Orpheus' visit to Pluto's realm, 
by echoing the references in the opening ten lines of the poem, 
gives the effect of unity to the whole; and note also that this final 
passage suggests the method by which Milton himself especially 
loved to banish "loathed Melancholy." 

II Penseroso. Distinguish between, the Melancholy in UAllegrOy 
i-io, and that in II Penseroso, 11-44. ^'^^ the "vain deluding 
joys" (i) those described in H Allegro? What in Saturn's history 
warrants the use of the epithet " solitary " (24) ? Is the epithet 
expressive in this connection ? Why should Saturn have feared 
Jove? Note how the appellation "Nun" suggests the chief differ- 
ence between the kind of pleasures described in L Allegro and those 
now to be depicted. What was the original meaning of " fond " 
(6), " pensioner" (10), "kerchief" (125), " grain" (33), "passion" 
(41)? Why does II Penseroso wish to walk unseen (65)? Note 
the assonances in lines 55, 62, 76. What is the symbolic signifi- 
cance of the oak (60), the pall (98), the buskin (102), iron tears 
(107)? What attendant of Euphrosyne corresponds to the Cherub 
Contemplation ? What sounds in H Allegro correspond to the song 
of Philomel (47) ? What in U Allegro are the counterparts of the 
demons in line 93 ? Of the Tragedy (97) ? Contrast the use of the 
Orpheus myth in the two poems; the treatment of secular and 
religious music in each ; the morning scenes in each. Contrast 
the attitude of L'Allegro and II Penseroso towards books. What 
authors does Milton seem especially to admire? Of which goddess, 
Euphrosyne or Melancholy, can you make the most detailed mental 
picture? Which of all the scenes depicted appeals to you most, or 
calls up most vividly some experience of your own ? 



NOTES. 365 

COMUS. 

1-92. Explanatory matter preparatory to the beginning of dra- 
matic action. Note the order of exposition : why the Spirit 
comes; to whose aid \i& coxi\Q.'&; against what foes he comes; how 
these aims are to be accomplished. Observe how Milton enters 
imaginatively into the consciousness of a spiritual being, and 
expresses his emotions vv^hen brought into contact with mundane 
conditions. Note the shrewd appea:! to the sympathies of a British 
audience in 21-23 and 27-29, and the appeal to local feeling in t^^. 
Note the anticipatory reference in the word " transformed " (48). 
Why does Milton bring Comus ( = revelry) to the British Isles 
(60) from French and Spanish soil? Why does not the change 
(69) affect the whole person, as in the Greek myth? (Dramatic 
reason? Symbolic reason?) What is the allegorical signification 
of lines 74-76. Note the fitness of the j-sound for the alliterative 
lines 80 and 81. To what person in the service of the Earl of 
Bridgewater would the audience apply the description in lines 85- 
88? To what mythical personage does Milton in effect liken him? 

93-144. The first phase of the Anti-masque? Describe the 
character and the effect of the change in metre. Note the various 
modifications of metre for onomatopoetic effect (111-118); com- 
pare the metrical effects in lines 143, 144, with those in L Allegro, 
lines 33, 34. What line most fully expresses the moral depravity of 
Comus? Note that the evil resides not in the acts, but in the spirit 
in which they are committed. 

145-330. From what does the "pace" (145) "differ," and 
how ? What is the significance of" spongy " (154), " blear " (155), 
"quaint" (157), "fairly" (168), " amiss " (177)? What dramatic 
reasons for the long explanation in 153-195? Note in the beautiful 
simile of the palmer (i 88-1 90) how the picture gains definiteness from 
the descriptive touches, "_^r<?j'-hooded," " sad votarist," the " wheels 
of Phoebus' zvain.''^ Is the metaphor in 197-198 dignified? Note 
the ingenious device by which the Spirit, hiding above, is enabled to 
confirm the Lady's faith, and the audience is reminded of his presence 
and his purpose. Why would the tribute to the beauty of the song in 



366 MINOR POEMS. 

244-264 be pleasing to the audience ? Are the sentiments exj^ressed 
appropriate on the lips of Comus? Would he desire a queen who 
should arouse in him a "sacred and home-felt delight " ? What is 
the appearance of Comus at the moment when he discloses his 
presence to the Lady? What is Comus' motive in the speech 
(291-302)? Is Milton's reflection upon the manners of the Stuart 
court (322-326) introduced in a suitable place? Why is the prayer 
in 329-330 artistically suitable at the close of this scene? 

331-480. Note that Milton has presented in this dialogue the 
contrasting altitudes toward danger adopted by the optimist and 
the pessimist. Milton's eloquent tributes to the power of Virtue 
(373-375, 381-385) and to the effect of holy thoughts in spiritual- 
izing the whole man (456-463) are unsurpassed, and should be 
committed to memory. The interpretation of the Greek myths of 
Diana and Minerva is worthy of careful study. Observe also Mil- 
ton's ingenious explanation of the nature and origin of ghosts. The 
entire passage from 359 to 480 is essentially undraiiiatic; but it is 
not out of place in such an entertainment as this at Ludlow. 

481-656. Describe the physical appearance of the Spirit at this 
juncture. Is it artistic to introduce here a second description of 
Comus, and an account of what we have just seen presented on the 
stage ? The skill shown in varying the treatment of the same themes 
is well worthy of study. Does the Spirit speak in the language and 
style of a shepherd in the service of the Earl of Bridgewater? Note 
the three magnificent examples of hyperbole in Hnes 555-562. In 
Milton's manuscript the steeds of Sleep in line 553 are called 
"drowsy-flighted" ; in the edition printed for Lawes three years 
later they are called " drowsy frighted" ; which epithet seems to you 
the more expressive? How do lines 589-592 correspond with the 
facts in regard to the Lady? (Cf. 590, 663-665.) What implied 
compliment to the actor in lines 494-496, 623-625 ? Compare the 
ending of this scene (658) with that of the previous scene 
(329-330). What is the allegorical significance of the fact that 
the Spirit leaves to the brothers the task of rescuing the Lady ? 
659-813. Is the Lady helpless in her chair, or only wisely pas- 
••^sive in the presence of superior force? What expression in her first 



NOTES, 367 

speech shows that she has not lost faith in God? What in her sec- 
ond shows that she has not lost the freedom of her mind? Note 
what assertions in Comus' speeches are in themselves true, though 
misapplied. These speeches, in which the false and the true are 
craftily commingled, are worthy of study for their ingenuity. They 
also voice Milton's deliberate opinions on subjects in regard to 
which the Cavaliers and the Puritans were at odds, and both, in 
Milton's opinion, equally in error. 

814-1023. What moral is symbolically expressed in the results 
of the brothers' failure to seize the wand? In the means by which 
Sabrina releases the Lady? Why would the guests present be 
pleased with this scene, and with the historical reference in lines 
824-851 ? What poetic device is prominent in the Invocation to 
Sabrina? Note the imaginative beauty of the tribute to Sabrina 
(922-937), in which are massed all the conditions that might be 
conceived to render a river blessed. What time in the day is it 
supposed to be when the Country Dances are disclosed? Describe 
their dancing. (The second division of the Anti-masque ?) What 
takes place on the stage between Hnes 965 and 966? Was the 
Lady herself " victorious over sensual folly and intemperance " ? 
Were her Brothers " victorious " ? Distinguish between the " Venus " 
and " Love " whom Comus mentions in line 124, and the "Assyrian 
Queen " and her " famed son, Cupid," of lines 1002-1004. Show 
how the experiences of the Lady justify the moral drawn by the 
Spirit in lines 1018-1023. 

LYCIDAS. 
1-84. Observe how the opening lines create at once the atmos- 
phere of classic pastoralism which is to pervade the entire poem, 
and strike the key-note of sadness to which all its harmonies are 
attuned. On what grounds does Milton assume that the Muses will 
be " coy " (18) ? Why are these expressions of grief called " lucky 
words " (20) ? Note the method of depicting unbroken comrade- 
ship in lines 22-30. What college occupations are here metaphori- 
cally indicated? Why are the similes in 45-49 appropriate in a 
pastoral poem, and why is each expressive of some characteristic of 
Lycidas? Observe how, by imitating the complaints of Theocritus 



368 MINOR POEMS. 

and Virgil in their elegies (50-55), Milton prepares the way first 
for his impeachment of the worth of high endeavor, and then for 
the first of those climaxes of passionate moral exaltation which 
make the poem great. Note the compression of the thought in this 
paragraph (70-84) due to this exaltation. Why does he refer to 
that one of the Fates who cuts the thread of life as a " Fury " ? 

85-131. The subsidence of the first wave of high emotion is 
indicated by a fresh appeal to the sources of pastoral inspiration, 
under whose influence the poet is led to express the concern of 
those most deeply grieved by the death of Lycidas. These are 
Neptune, to whom the shipwreck is likely to be falsely attributed, 
Camus, the patron deity of the University on the Cam, and St. 
Peter, the head of the Church Universal. The symbolism was not 
so obscure to the scholars for whom these verses were written as it 
is likely to be to the modern reader. Thus the " hairy mantle " of 
Academics (cf. " Budge doctors of the Stoic fur," Comus, 707), the 
bonnet woven of sedge from the bed of the Cam, with its faint 
markings like those on the petals of the hyacinth, the mitre and 
the keys of St. Peter, were all symbols intelligible to the readers of 
Milton's day. In 113-131 we have the second emotional climax, 
induced by a contemplation of certain evil conditions in the Church 
which Lycidas, had he not been destroyed by an untoward fate, 
might have been instrumental in abolishing. At least he would 
have been a living rebuke to the unworthy servants of the Church, 
who devoured its revenues and neglected its duties. Every meta- 
phorical expression should be carefully interpreted. What is the 
fold? the shearer's feast? the sheep-hook? the flashy song? the 
rank mist? the contagion? the wolf? 

132-193. Milton's passionate denunciation of the " corrupted 
clergy " is pastoral in form and expression, but is too vehement in 
spirit for a genuine pastoral. As before, when he had been carried 
away by emotion, he now indicates the subsidence of the wave by 
an appeal to another pastoral influence. The appeal to the sisters 
of the Sacred Well had summoned to his aid the spirit of classi- 
cism ; the appeal to Arethusa and Mincius had awakened in him 
the artificial and formal mood of VirgiPs pasto7-al work ; and now, 



NOTES. 369 

with the appeal to the gentle SiciUan Muse, a tenderer mood suc- 
ceeds the bitter one, and his affectionate grief seeks its normal 
expression in an imaginary tribute of flowers to be strown upon the 
bier of his friend. Note what characteristic feature in each flower 
renders it appropriate for a funeral garland. As in the previous cases, 
this mood is of short duration. There ensues a passionate grief 
at the thought of the indignities to which the body of Lycidas 
may be subjected, and this in turn prepares the way for a reaction 
into a mood of exultation, over the thought of the immortal life 
into which his spirit has entered. Observe the note of sincerity 
that vibrates in the music of the poem when Milton, abandoning 
classic metaphor, gives rein to his own enthusiastic religious con- 
victions. No more exalted expression of faith triumphant over the 
material fact of death than that in lines 1 65-1 81 was ever penned. 

But the principle of unity requires that a poem shall end in the 
same style that it begins. Therefore lines 182-185 encompass us 
again with the atmosphere of classical pastoralism, in preparation 
for the concluding octave. In this, observe how the epithet 
"uncouth " (186) echoes the note in the second line of the Intro- 
duction, the epithet "Doric" expresses the standard which the poet 
has set himself, the epithet "eager" suggests his apology and his 
excuse for departing from that standard, and the closing line hints 
at the broader interests which are henceforth to absorb his energies 
and preclude further lyric productions. 

General Structure and Form. — In closing his study of the 
poem, the pupil should note that it is apparently constructed upon 
a definite scheme of antithetical moods, such as accompany violent 
grief. Thus the successive thoughts are: (i) " We were happy " 
— "But O the heavy change ! " (2) "The Nymphs failed to watch 
over him" — "But what could that have done?" (3) "Fate ruth- 
lessly slays the poet " — " But not the praise," etc. He should also 
ask himself whether there be not a subtle aesthetic reason for Milton's 
adoption of this peculiar metrical form, with its irregularly rhymed 
lines, its occasional lapses from pentameter into trimeter, and 
its scattered lines for which no rhyming counterpart is to be 
found. 



370 MINOR POEMS. 

SONNETS. 

I., II. The tirst two Sonnets were composed while Milton was 
still at the University. The first is notable because it testifies to 
the early age at which Milton's standards of conduct, his sense of 
duty to God, his willingness to " stay the very ripening of t'he time," 
became controlling forces in his life. Note in lines 4 and 7 the 
same sentiment which finds expression six years later in the opening 
lines of Lycidas, and in 10-12 the same purpose which appears 
twenty-four years later in the Sonnet To Cyriac Skinner (No. 
XVII.) . The second Sonnet is a mere playful expression of the 
natural yearnings of a romantic and poetically-inclined youth, at 
the season when " a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts 
of love." It is in no sense original, and its style is marked by the 
affectations characteristic of the late Elizabethan school of poets. 

III., IV., V. This group, composed within a few years after his 
foreign trip, is of slight interest. Sonnet III. was written when the 
advance of the royal army in 1642, after the battle of Edgehill, 
made it seem probable that London would be occupied by the troops. 
Milton was living in '' a garden-house " near the city wall, and 
would therefore have been exposed to annoyance had the city been 
besieged. All three are purely personal, although the references 
to Alexander and Pindar (III., lo-ii), to Euripides (III., 13), and 
to the defeat of the Athenians at Chaeronea and the consequent 
death of Socrates (V., 7-8) show the influence of Milton's classi- 
cal studies, and the poUtical references in V., 5-8, indicate the bent 
of his mind toward the championship of freedom. 

VL, VII. These Sonnets were the results of his first struggle for 
liberty in his pamphlets on divorce, published in 1643- 1645. "^^^ 
Tetrachordon expounded the four chief passages of Scripture deal- 
ing with the subject. Both of these Sonnets are conceived in that 
spirit of rough combativeness which marked the literary and reli- 
gious tilts of the times. The first essays to use ridicule, a weapon 
which Milton could never use effectively. His aim was to enlist on 
the side of his book the prevailing hostility to the Scotch race due 
to religious differences. The second is serious in tone, but abusive. 

VIII., IX., X., XL This group, like the second, is composed of 



NOTES. 371 

Sonnets personal in character, but is the fruit of maturer powers. 
It represents the work of calm intervals in the strenuous life to 
which Milton was condemned, between his declaration of moral and 
intellectual independence in 1643 (see Sonnets VI. and VII.) and 
his withdrawal from active public service and entrance upon the 
composition oi Paradise Lost in 1657. Indeed, the Sonnet To Cy- 
riac Skinner (No. XI.) was probably written in 1658, when uncer- 
tainty as to "what the Swede intend" led Cromwell himself to 
bring the matter before Parliament. 

XII.-XVII. The twelfth Sonnet is the first of a group in which 
Milton poured out in impassioned language his feelings on matters 
related to the Civil War, and on his own relation to public affairs, 
including his regret that the service of the State had robbed him of 
the eyesight requisite for the poetic work to which he had always 
considered himself consecrated. They are probably the more 
impassioned because his official relation to the government forbade 
him to adopt any other means of expression. The Sonnets to Fair- 
fax, Cromwell, and Vane are notable because they testify to the 
clearness with which Milton discerned the principles at stake 
through the obscuring smoke of the conflict, and the tenacity with 
which he championed the cause of Liberty against its professed 
friends as well as its open foes. Sonnet XII. refers to the capture 
of Colchester in 1648; Sonnet XIII. to the attempt of the Presby- 
terians to secure the estabhshment of a Presbyterian State church. 
Sonnet XVI. was occasioned by the slaughter of the Lutheran in- 
habitants of three valleys in Piedmont by the soldiery of the Cath- 
olic Duke of Savoy, in order to stamp out Protestantism in that 
region (April, 1655). Sonnet XVII. refers to the effect which Mil- 
ton believed that his Defensio Sectinda {pro populo Anglicano) 
must have had toward justifying the Parliament of England in the 
eyes of Europe for its resistance against Charles I. Written in 1655, 
it is his final independent utterance on the subject of popular liberty. 

XVIII. This Sonnet derives a pathetic interest because it voices 
Milton's grief over the death of his second wife, whom he truly 
loved, and whose society he was privileged to enjoy for but a little 
more than a year. 



372 PARADISE LOST. 



GLOSSARY. 



[This glossary includes : (i) Words peculiar to Milton, or 
used by him in a sense no longer common ; (2) words still 
in good use, but likely to be unfamiliar to a pupil of secondary 
school age ; (3) familiar words of more than ordinary inter- 
est because of their history and the connotatio7i that they have 
acquired through long use ; (4) names of persons and places 
to which Milton makes only casual reference. The origin of 
many of the words is indicated by the initials of the tongue 
whence they were derived. For example, "6"/'. = uncover'''' 
means that the word is a descendant from a Greek original, 
meaning to uncover. 

In using the glossary, the pupil should note the origin of 
the word under scrutiny, and, if familiar with the language 
whence it is derived, he should endeavor to recognize the 
parent word or root ; and he should try to establish a logical 
connection between the different meanings of a word as given, 
endeavoring by reflection to determine why the same word 
should mean, for instance, "blessed" and "foolish." Thus 
he will not only enlarge his vocabulary, but also train his 
mind to observation and reflection, and find in language a 
constantly increasing expressiveness and richness of sugges- 
tion.] 

Abortive. (L.) i. Born prematurely. (Used of any organism 
which, having begun to develop, fails to reach completeness. Used 
causatively, see P. L. II. 441.) 2. Fruitless. 

adamant. (Gr. = not conquerable.) This word was the name 
of a substance existing only in the imagination of early philosophers, 



GLOSSARY. 373 

whose characteristic was that it could not be broken. The name 
diamond comes from the same root, and the term has been applied 
also to steel and to the loadstone. 

adverse. (L.) i. Turned towards. 2. Opposite or contrasting. 
3. Hostile. 

alablaster or alabaster. A mineral (granular sulphate of lime) 
of a pure white color, easily carved into ornaments when freshly cut, 
but hardening upon continued exposure to air, until it resembles 
marble. 

Alcairo. The Arabic name for the city of Cairo, founded in the 
tenth century near the site of ancient Memphis, for which name 
Milton substitutes it by metonymy (see p. 11). 

aloof. I. (Perhaps from a-luff = ) To the windward of. 2. At a 
safe distance from. 

amain. (A.S.) With force. 

amarant. (Gr. = not fading.) A name given by the naturalist 
Pliny to a real or imaginary flower of purple color which does not 
fade. The poets are fond of using it to suggest immortal life and 
heavenly scenes. 

ambrosia. (Gr. = not mortal.) A classic name for the food of 
the gods, which exhaled a delicate fragrance. Applied by poets to 
anything divinely fragrant. 

amerce. (Fr.) At mercy. A legal term for imposing a fine 
whose amount was determined by the court. 

anarchy. (Gr. = without leadership.) A state of lawlessness. 

anon. (A.S. = in one.) i. Quickly. 2. At other times. 

Apocalypse. (Gr. = uncover.) The last book in the Bible, 
otherwise called Revelation, in which is recorded the vision of St. 
John the Divine, revealing the fate of the earth and its inhabitants. 
In Chapter xii. is a denunciation of woe to man owing to the 
advent on earth of the Devil in the form of a dragon. 

architrave. (Gr.) Main beam. In buildings of the Greek type 
it rests upon the columns, and with the frieze and cornice supports 
the roof. 

argument. (L.) i. Evidence. 2. Reasoning. 3. Theme for 
discourse or writing. 4. Inscription. 

Armorica. The Welsh name for Brittany, in France, whence the 
Britons were held to have migrated into England. 

asphaltus. (Gr.) A dark-colored inflammable mineral consist- 
ing of bitumen in a liquid or solid form. It is found in the region 
about the Dead Sea. 



374 PARADISE LOST. 

asphodel. (Gr.) The classic name of the daffodil, a flower 
that was said to grow abundantly in the Elysian Fields (23). 

assessor. (L.) One who sits near some one, in an official capac- 
ity. The French applied the word to one of a body of officers sitting 
together to appraise property for taxation, whence its modern use. 

Astoreth. The principal Phoenician deity, identified with the 
moon as queen of heaven, but with Venus as goddess of the pas- 
sion of love. The plural form of the name, Ashtaroth, refers to the 
different manifestations of this goddess in various parts of Palestine. 
The name appears in modified form among the Persians, Assyrians, 
and other nations. Cf. Astarte, P. L. I. 439. 

Attica. That province of Greece whose capital was Athens. 
The "Attic boy" is Cephalus, grandson of the king of Attica, who 
loved and wedded Aurora, or the Morn. The adjective Attic, owing 
to the preeminence of Athens in literature and art, has come to 
connote perfection in matters of aesthetic culture. 

Ausonia. An ancient name for Italy. 

Babel. Milton uses this name sometimes as an equivalent for 
the name Babylon, sometimes in its ordinary application as the 
name of the tower built on the plain of Shinar (or Sennaar) by the 
descendants of Noah, as described in Genesis xi. i-io. 

Barca. A district of Africa, west of Egypt anjj north of the 
Desert of Sahara. Three-fourths of its surface is covered with 
rocks and loose sand. 

batten. To cause to grow fat. 

beatific. (L.) Capable of causing extreme happiness. 

beatitude. (L.) A state of extreme happiness. 

Beersaba or Beersheba. A city in southwestern Palestine (see 
map, p. 87). Dan and Beersheba are the traditional expressions 
for the extreme limits of the Holy Land (83). 

behoof. Advantage. 

behove. (A.S.) To be necessary (impersonal verb). 

Belial. (Heb, — without usefulness.) The phrase in the Bible 
" man of Belial," meaning ** man of no worth," suggested to Milton 
the use of this word as the name of one of the fallen angels. 

bellman. P'ormerly a watchman who went about a town at 
night, ringing a bell, warning the inhabitants to beware of fire, and 
invoking their prayers for the unfortunate. 

Bellona. The Roman goddess of war. 

benison. (L. and F.) Blessing. This word is employed chiefly 
by poets. 



GLOSSARY. 375 

beryl. (Gr.) A precious stone, one variety of which (called 
emerald) is of a sea-green color. 

bestead. (A.S.) i. To please advantageously. 2. To profit. 

bicker, i. To fight with stones or arrows so as to make a tap- 
ping sound. 2. To move rapidly, so as to suggest the above. 
3. To quarrel noisily. 

blazon, i. To display. 2. To proclaim publicly. 3. To adorn. 

blear (= blur), i. Of eyes^X-o make inflamed. 2. Of the intel- 
lect^ to confuse. 

bolt. I. (A.S. = an arrow or a peg.) i. To swallow hastily or 
without mastication. 2. To throw forth or expel quickly. 3. To 
start forward or away quickly. 4. To fasten with a bolt. 

II. (Ger. = to sift.) i. To separate flour from bran. 2. To 
examine by sifting. 3. To present in a refined form. 

bosky. (L.) Bushy. 

bourn. (F. = limit.) A winding narrow valley with a rivulet, 
forming a natural land boundary. 

bout. (Dan.) i. A fold or twist. 2. A turn: i.e. as much of 
an action as is performed at one time. 3. A contest. 

budge. I. A kind of fur made of lambskin with the wool 
dressed outwards. Persons who had obtained a degree from a 
university formerly wore budge fur, as a sign of scholarly attain- 
ments. 2. Scholastic or severe in aspect. 

bullion. (Fr. and L.) i. Boiling. 2. Uncoined gold or silver. 

buskin, i. A boot covering the foot and the lower part of the 
leg, designed to protect against thorns, etc. 2. A similar boot 
with high soles, worn in ancient tragedies to give the actor an im- 
posing appearance. The word is therefore used as symbolic of 
tragedy. 

buxom. (A.S.) I. Yielding, flexible. 2. Jolly, cheerful. 

cadence. (L.) i. The act of falling in motion or in pitch of tone. 
2. Rhythmic flow of language. 3. Regular pace in marching. 

Calabria. The peninsula that terminates Italy on the southwest. 

Cambuscan. A character in Chaucer's Squier's Tale, He was 
king of Tartary, and had two sons, Algarsif and Camballo, and one 
daughter, Canace. One day, while the king was celebrating his 
birthday festivities, in his palace, a strange knight appeared, riding 
upon a brazen steed, holding in his hand a mirror of glass, and 
wearing upon his thumb a ring of gold. He announced that the 
wondrous horse (which had the power to bear his rider upon earth 
or in the air over whatever space in a day the rider willed) was a 



376 PARADISE LOST. 

present from the king of Arabia and India to Cambuscan. The 
mirror (in which its possessor could read whatever adversity threat- 
ened him) and the ring (which conferred the power to interpret 
the song of birds, and to perceive the mystic properties of all heal- 
ing herbs) were given to Canace. As the tale was left incomplete, 
it is not known " who had Canace to wife." 

canker. (L.) i. A corroding ulceration. 2. Anything that 
eats away like (i), e.g. rust. 3. A worm that devours plants. 

canon. (Gr. = a straight rod.) i. A rule. 2. A rule in eccle- 
siastical matters, especially a rule for the government of the mem- 
bers of a monastery or other religious body. 3. An official of a 
certain rank in the Church of England. 

carbuncle. (L. = a little coal.) i. A precious stone of a deep- 
red color. 2. A malignant boil. 

career, i. A term of chivalry, applied to a friendly tilt with 
lances, as opposed to a mortal combat. 2. To move rapidly. 

cassia. An aromatic plant mentioned in the Bible. 

cast. I. Throw. 2. Compute. 3. Predict by foresight or by 
divination. 4. Plan. 

cell. (L. = the holiest part of a temple.) i. A small apart- 
ment inhabited by a religious devotee. 2. A compartment, or any 
hollow place. 

centre, i. The middle point of anything. 2. The Earth (as the 
centre of the World). 

champaign. (F.) Flat, open country. 

change, i. Alteration. 2. A figure in a masque or a dance. 

character. (L.) i. To engrave. 2. To describe. 

chimaera. (Gr.) i. A fabulous fire-breathing monster, with 
lion's head, goat's body, and serpent's tail. 2. Any foolish and 
unreal creation of the imagination. 

chivalry. (Fr.) i. Cavalry. 2. A body of knights. 

chrysolite. A precious stone of a pale yellowish-green color. 

Cimmeria. A region of total darkness, supposed by Homer to 
exist at the edge of the earth's disc, beyond the ocean's stream (see 
23). Through it lay one route to the lower world. 

clarion. (L.) A trumpet of slender bore, with a loud, clear 
tone. 

clear. (L.) i. Bright or distinct. 2. Noble. 

close. (L.) I. ConHned. 2. Secret. 3. Dense. 4. Near. 

clout. (A.S.) I. A small piece of cloth. 2. A patch. 3. A 
blow on the ear. 4. The central mark on a target. 



GLOSSARY. 377 

combustion. (L.) i. Burning. 2. Tumult. 

compeer. (L. = equal with.) A comrade. 

composition. (L.) i. A body composed of several portions. 

2. A settlement of differences. 

conclave. (L. = closed with a key.) i. A body of cardinals in 
the exercise of their highest function, to elect a pope, during which 
action they are customarily locked into cells. 2, A secret assembly. 

confine. (L.) i. Boundary. 2. To border upon. 

consort. (L.) One who shares another's lot; e.g. a wife. 

cope. (A.S.) I. A covering for the head. 2. The summit. 

3. An over-roofing canopy. 4. To contend. 

cornice. (Gr. and L.) In architecture, a moulded projection 
which finishes the upper part of a wall, etc. 

Cotytto. A Thracian goddess worshipped at night with revelry 
and licentious rites. 

crank, i. A turn or revolution. 2. A sportive use of a word, 
by twisting its form or meaning. 

cresset. (Fr.) A basket of open iron-work, employed to hold 
a beacon of burning material. 

croft. (A.S.) I. An enclosed field near a house. 2. A small 
farm. 

crude. (L. = full of blood.) i. Raw. 2. Immature, or lack- 
ing in finish. 

curb. (Fr.) i. A restraining strap in a harness. 2. Anything 
that restrains. 

curfew. (Fr. = cover fire.) A bell formerly rung in England 
at eight o'clock P.M., by order of William the Conqueror, as a signal 
warning people to extinguish their fires and go to bed. The object 
was to guard against destructive fires at night. It is still rung at 
nine o'clock P.M. in a few localities, through adherence to tradition. 

cynic. (Gr. = dog.) i. Dog-like. 2. Belonging to the sect of 
philosophers called Cynics. They taught severity of dress, manners, 
and morals. The most noted Cynic was Diogenes, who scorned the 
luxury of a house, and lived in a tub. 

cynosure. (Gr. = dog's tail.) i. The constellation of the 
Lesser Bear (see 12), used by mariners in guiding their ships. 
2. Any object which commands attention. 

cypress. Light, transparent lawn, like modern crape, either 
black or white in color. 

Cyrene. A district in northern Africa. 



378 PARADISE LOST. 

debonair. (Fr.) Of good manners, agreeable. 

decent. (L.) i. Suitable. 2. Graceful. 3. Modest. 

dell. (A.S.) A small narrow valley between hills. 

Demogorgon. A much-dreaded demon, whose name, even, it 
was formerly deemed unsafe to utter. He was placed by Spenser 
in Chaos, but by Marlowe in the nether world. 

Deva. A Latinized form of the name of the river Dee, on the 
northern boundary of Wales. It is called ominous and hallowed by 
the older writers, because of legends of mystic powers with which 
it was said to be endowed. 

dight. (A.S.) I. Arranged. 2. Dressed. 3. Ornamented. 

dingle. (A form of the word " dimple.") A valley between steep 
hills. 

dint. (A.S.) I. A blow. 2. The mark resulting from a blow. 
3. Force. 

dire. (L.) Dreadful. 

discover, i. Uncover. 2. Reveal. 3. Explore. 

Doris. A district in Greece inhabited by one of the three 
primitive Greek races. The Dorians expressed their simple, 
dignified, almost austere character in their music, literature, and 
architecture, both in Greece and in their colonies in Sicily, Italy, 
and Asia Minor. The early pastoral poets, Theocritus, Bion, 
Moschus, wrote in the Doric dialect. 

dragon. (Gr. = seeing.) i. A huge serpent in Greek mythol- 
ogy, represented as resembling a winged crocodile. 2. An em- 
blematic expression in Revelation xxii. 2, for Satan, 

dryad. (Gr.) A nymph of the woods (see 51). 

dun. (A.S.) A color between brown and black. 

Eden. (Heb. = delight.) The name of the district in which lay 
the garden of Paradise. Several authorities have held that it was 
situated in Syria and Mesopotamia. 

effulgence. (L.) A flood of light, splendor. 

eglantine. i. The sweet-briar rose. 2. (Milton's "twisted 
eglantine" =) The woodbine, or the honeysuckle. 

element. (L.) i. One of the simplest parts of which a thing 
consists. 2. A substance that cannot be decomposed into different 
substances. 3. One of the four imaginary principles of matter 
recognized by ancient philosophers (see 4). 4. That one of the 
elements which is necessary to the life of a being. 

elixir. (Arab. = the essence. ) i. The philosopher's stone (see 



GLOSSARY. 379 

6). 2, The liquor with which alchemists hoped to transmute 
metals. 3. The refined extract of anything. 

embryon. (Or.) The first rudiments of any living organism. 

empyreal. (Gr.) i. Formed of pure fire or light (see 5). 2. Heav- 
enly (see 73). 

emulation. (L.) i. Rivalry. 2. Envy. 

engine. (L.) i. A contrivance of any kind. 2. An instrument 
of war or of torture. 

environ. (Fr.) Surround. 

equinoctial. (L.) See 11. 

eremite. (Gr.) i. A person who lives a solitary life, apart from 
his fellow men. 2. A person bound to pray for another, a beadsman. 

erst. ( A. S. = superlative of " ere.") i. First. 2. Formerly. 

essence. (L.) i. The quality of an object which differentiates 
it from other objects. 2. The basal constituent substance which 
makes an object what it is. 3. A characteristic extract from some 
plant or drug. 4. A perfume. 

ether. (Gr. = blaze.) i. A form of matter supposed to exist 
above the air (see 5). 2. A medium of great elasticity and tenuity, 
pervading all space and serving to transmit light, heat, and other 
forms of vibratory energy. 

event. (L. = outcome.) i. That which happens. 2. The 
result of a course of action. 

execrable. (L.) Worthy to be accursed. 

exempt. (L.) i. Set apart. 2. Released from liability. 

exorbitant. (L.) Excessive. Beyond the bounds of right. 

expatiate. (L. = walk forth.) i. To range at large. 2. To 
enlarge in discourse. 

exquisite. (L. = seek out.) i. Carefully selected. 2. Of ex- 
cellent quality. 3. Not easily satisfied, fastidious. 4. Extreme. 

fallacious. (L.) Misleading to the senses or the mind. 

fallow. (A.S. =■ reddish yellow.) Land ploughed but not sowed. 

fare. (A.vS.) i. Journey. 2. Experience. 3. Live. 

fast (O.E. = strongly, quickly) in the phrase " fast by " = close 
at hand. 

father, i. A male parent. 2. An ancestor. 3. A dignitary, 
especially of the Early Christian Church. 

fell. (O.E.) I. Cruel. 2. Eager. 

firmament. (L.) i. An established basis or foundation. 2. A 



38o PARADISE LOST. 

region of the air. The sky, conceived as a material arch, within 
which are the atmosphere and the clouds (see 9). 3. A technical 
name in ancient astronomy for the orb of the fixed stars (see 8, 9). 

flamen. (L.) A priest consecrated to the service of a particu- 
lar god, as Jupiter or Mars. 

fond. (O.E.) I. Foolish. 2. Over affectionate. 3. Loving. 

forfeit. (L.) i. A trespass. 2. A penalty. 

fraught. (O.E.) Loaded, burdened. 

fret. I. (O.E. = adorn.) To ornament with raised lines. 
2. (O.E. = devour.) To wear away by friction, to irritate. 

frieze, i. An ornamented band, lying between the architrave 
and the cornice of a building of the Greek type. 2. (From Fries- 
land.) A coarse woollen cloth with shaggy nap. 

frontispiece. (L. = front view.) i. The front of a house. 2. A 
picture fronting the title-page of a book. 

froze. (A.S.) Frozen. 

frounce. (Fr.) i. To wrinkle or curl up. 2. To adorn with 
flounces. 

gad. To ramble, to straggle in growth. 

garish, i. Staring. 2. Gaudy. 

gaudy. (L. = holiday.) i. Gay, festive. 2. Showy. 

gear. (A.S.) i. Outfit. 2. Harness. 3. Property. 4. Matter 
in hand, business. 

genius. (L.) i. A spirit attendant upon a person, and affecting 
his destiny. 2. A spirit attached to a person, place, or thing by the 
laws of its existence, as the " genius of a wood," " of Aladdin's 
lamp," etc. 3. The special power or quality possessed by a person 
in an extreme degree. 

glade. (A.S. = shining.) A passage through a wood, open to 
light. 

gloze. (A.S. = explain.) I. To explain by comments. 2. To 
deceive by flattery. 

goal. (Fr.) One of the marks set to bound a race. In 
Roman chariot races the skill of the driver was measured by his 
ability to round the goal at full speed, passing as near it as possible 
(so as to lose no distance) yet without touching it, and thus to 
'• shun the goal with rapid wheels." 

goblin. (Ger.) A mischievous spirit. 

grain. (L.) i. A small dried insect, in appearance like a seed 
or barleycorn, furnishing a red dye. 2. A red dye; used by Milton 



GLOSSARY. 381 

as an equivalent for Tyrian purple, which was a red dye formerly 
made at Tyre from a certain shell-fish. 

grand. (L.) i. Principal or important. 2. High in dignity. 
3. Remote in line of birth. 

gray-fly. A parasitic insect, sometimes called " trumpet-fly," 
which attacks sheep with especial virulence. 
grisly. (A.S.) Horrible-looking, 
gross. (Fr.) i. Large, coarse. 2. Unrefined. 3. Shameful. 

Grove. In the Bible, a mistranslation of the Hebrew word 
" Asherah," which is probably the name of the wooden idol which 
represented the goddess Astoreth (see 46). 

gutta serena. (L. = clear drop.) That form of blindness 
caused not by any obstruction to the passage of light to the retina, 
but by the impaired sensibility of the retina itself. Suffusion, on the 
contrary, is that form of blindness caused by the spreading of some 
obstruction to the sight (as a cataract) over the eye. Milton's 
blindness was of the former nature. 

habit. I. Condition of the body. 2. Custom. 3. Apparel. 

haemony. (Gk. = blood-red.) A term invented by Milton as 
the name of a magic herb. Perhaps because one name for Thes- 
saly, the land of magic, was Hcemonia. 

halcyon. Peaceful. Halcyone, daughter of ^olus (see 52), 
and her husband were transformed into kingfishers. It was fabled 
that they made their nest upon the surface of the sea, and for the 
space of fourteen days, while the mother brooded over her eggs, the 
sea remained in a state of charmed calm, although the breeding 
season came in midwinter (Dec. 21+). 

hale. (A.S.) To drag, to haul. 

harbinger. (A.S.) i. One who announces the coming of a 
guest. 2. Especially, in England, an officer of the royal household, 
who preceded the monarch in his journeys, tc provide for suitable 
entertainment. 3. A precursor. 

harrow. (A.S.) i. To draw an instrument with large teeth over 
soil in order to pulverize it. 2. To fill with distress, to lacerate. 

Hermes, i. A god of Greek mythology (see 53 and 7). 2. A 
celebrated Egyptian philosopher and king, called " Trismegistus " 
(thrice-great) because he had the state of a king, the wisdom of a 
philosopher, and the illumination of a priest. His writings are lost, 
although forged works bearing his name exist. 

Hesperus, i. A deity of Greek mythology (see 6i). 2. A name 
for the evening star (see 14). 



382 PARADISE LOST. 

hierarchy. (Gr.) i. Government in sacred matters. 2. A rank 
or order of sacred beings (see 72). 

hoar. (A.S.) i. White. 2. Gray with age, aged. 

hold. A castle or stronghold. 

horrid. (L.) i. Bristling, rough. 2. Causing horror. 

hosanna. (Heb. = save, I pray.) i. A prayer employed by the 
Hebrews on feast days. 2. An acclamation in praise of God. 

humor. (Gr.) i. A substance in the human body the excess of 
which determines the temperament of its possessor. There were 
formerly held to be four humors, — blood, choler, phlegm, and mel- 
ancholy. 2. Tendency to disease. 3. Mental state, as produced 
by (I) 

hutch. (Fr.) Hoard up. 

Hydra. (Gr.) A monster, the offspring of Typhon (see 32), 
that infested the region about Lake Lerna, in the Peloponnesus. 
It had a hundred heads, and if one were cut off two sprang up in 
its place, unless the cut was immediately seared. Hercules destroyed 
the monster with the aid of lolaus, and made use of the gall to tip 
his arrows with poison (see 60-f ). 

Iberia. The Latin name for the territory now occupied by Spain. 

imblaze. i. Set on fire. 2. Adorn with glittering embellish- 
ments. 3. Adorn with figures of heraldry. 

immure. (L.) i. Enclose with walls. 2. Confine. 

impale. (L.) i. To transfix with a sharp stake. 2. To enclose 
with a paling, or fence of stakes. 

inclement. (L.) i. Unmerciful. 2. Stormy. 

ineffable. (L.) Not capable of being expressed in words. 

infernal. (L.) i. Pertaining to the lower regions. 2. Fit for 
hell, diabolical. 

influence. (L. = flowing into.) i. A controlling force formerly 
supposed to be exercised by the heavenly bodies upon the lives of 
men. It was also held to promote the formation of metals and 
minerals within the bowels of the earth. 2. Any power causing or 
modifying an action. 

instinct. (L.) i. Animated or impelled to action from within. 
2. An inner force or stimulus. 

inure. (M.E.) i. Habituated by use. 2. Hardened. 

jaculation. (L.) The act of throwing. 

jocund. (L.) Cheerful, pleasant. 



GLOSSARY. 383 

junket. (It.) I. A delicacy made of curds mixed with cream, 
sweetened and flavored. 2. Feasting, merrymaking. 

ken, (A.S. = know.) i. Knowledge. 2. Sight. 3. (As a 
verb.) To recognize from a distance. 

kirtle ( = a modification of " skirtle ") . i . An upper garment or 
jacket. 2. An outer petticoat or skirt. 

labyrinth. (Or.) A building containing an intricate and con- 
fusing series of passages. 

lank. (A.S.) i. Slender. 2. Relaxed, drooping. 3. Long 
and straight. 

lap. Wrap, enfold. 

Lar. (L.) I. An Etruscan title, signifying Lord or King. 

2. A divinity, domestic or public, generally the deified spirit of an 
ancestor or a king. The images of the household la7'es were set up 
at the fireplaces, and worshipped with offerings. 

lawn. I. An open space, bounded by woods. 2. A kind of 
cloth. 

Lemur. (L.) A wicked spirit of the dead, who wanders at 
night to frighten the living, and must be propitiated at stated inter- 
vals with certain ceremonies. 

leviathan. (Heb. = wreath.) A huge sea-monster, real or 
imaginary, which writhes its body into folds. The name has been 
applied to the whale, the crocodile, and the fabled sea-serpent. 

libbard. A form of the word " leopard." 

lickerish. (Ger.) i. Dainty in regard to food. 2. Tempting. 

3. Lascivious. 

limbec. (Ar.) An old form of the word " alembic," which signi- 
fies a vessel or retort used by the alchemists for distilling liquids 
(see 6). 

Limbo. (L. = border.) A region on the edge of Hell, recog- 
nized in scholastic theology. It was held to be the abode of such 
spirits of the dead as were deserving neither of the pains of Hell 
nor of the joys of Heaven. Ariosto, an Italian poet (born 1474), 
located it in the moon. 

lime. (A.S.) A viscous substance, used to smear upon twigs 
for the purpose of catching small birds; birdlime . 

list. I, (A.S. = lust.) Desire, please. 2. (A.S. = hear.) Listen. 

livery. (Fr. = delivered.) i. An allowance of food, etc., fur- 
nished to servants. 2. A distinctive dress, worn by servants or 
offici^is. 



384 PARADISE LOST. 

living. I. Alive. 2. Burning. 3. Vivid in color. 

lore. (A.S.) That which may be learned, a lesson. 

lucent. (L.) Shining, resplendent. 

madrigal. (It.) i. A pastoral poem of a few stanzas. It 
originated in Italy and thence spread to England. 2. A part-song 
for three to ten singers, popular in England during the sixteenth 
century. 

MaBOnides. A name applied to Homer, either because of his 
parentage (from Moeon), or because he was a native of Maeonia 
(=Lydia). 

malign. (L.) Evilly disposed, harmful. 

mammon. A Syrian word meaning riches. 

marble. (Gr.) i. Composed of marble. 2. Veined like marble. 
3. Clear or pellucid. 

marie. (Fr.) A soil composed of clay mingled with lime, so 
that it crumbles easily. 

massy-proof (= proof against a mass). Ponderous. 

maw. (A.S.) i. The stomach of one of the lower animals. 
2. The crop of a fowl. 3. Appetite. 

Meander. (Gr.) A sluggish stream of many windings, flowing 
between Lycia and Caria. Its name has become expressive of slow 
and aimless wandering. 

meet. (A.S. = measure.) Fit, suitable, adapted. 

mickle. (A.S.) Great, much. 

middle. (A.S.) i. Equally distant from two extremes. 2, Hum- 
ble, ordinary. The i7iiddle air is one of three regions of the air 
recognized by ancient writers, the highest being warm and dry, the 
middle cold and cloudy, the lowest warm and moist. 

mince. (Fr.) To chop or cut into small pieces. 2. To walk 
with affected elegance. 3. To state imperfectly. 

mitigate. (L.) To render less severe. 

mode. (L.) i. A prevailing style or manner. 2. A name given 
to certain primitive musical scales, e.g. the Dorian, Lydian, and 
Phrygian modes. The Dorian was severe, and therefore suited to 
religious and martial music. It consisted of the intervals of the 
modern scale beginning and ending on D, without employing flats 
or sharps. The Lydian was soft and pleasing in its effect, and was 
suited to the more voluptuous emotions. It was like the scale of F 
without the flatted B. 



GLOSSARY. 385 

Mona. An ancient name for the island of Anglesea. 
Morpheus. (Gr. = form.) The god of sleep and dreams, so 
called because sXe^Tp fashions images in the mind. 

morrice (= Moorish), i. A dance with castanets, etc., for one 
person, introduced into England from Spain. 2. A i-ustic out-of- 
door dance, popular in England in the spring and summer. 

mortal. (L.) i. Deadly, fatal. 2. Subject to death. 

mould. I. (A.S. = dust.) Earth, modified by animal and vege- 
table organisms. 2. (Lat. = measure.) A matrix to determine the 
form of a casting. 3. Form. 

Mus2eus. A mythical Thracian poet. 

myriad. (Gr.) A numberless multitude. 

Namancos. An ancient town near Cape Finisterre. 

nard. (Pers.) i. An Oriental plant, called spikenard, whose 
flowers grow in clusters of spikes. 2. An ointment made from (i). 

nathless. (A contraction for not the less?) Notwithstanding. 

nectar. (Gr.) The drink of the gods, conferring immortaUty, 
beauty, and vigor upon the partaker. 

Nereid. (Gr.) A nymph of the sea, one of the daughters of 
Nereus (see 50). 

nether. (A.S.) Lower. 

nice. I. Fastidious, hard to please. 2. Foolish. 3. Scrupulous. 

night-foundered. (Fr.) Swallowed up in darkness. 

Niphates. A peak of Mount Taurus, in Asia Minor, lying north 
of Mesopotamia, and therefore in the land of Eden. 

nitre. (Ar.) The chemical substance commonly called salt- 
petre; a compound of nitric acid and potash. It is the basis of 
some explosive compounds, such as gunpowder. 

noxious. (L.) Extremely harmful. 

nymph. (Gr. = bride.) i. A lesser female deity in Greek 
mythology, inhabiting the earth or the water. 2. Any beautiful 
maiden. 

Hardened, unfeeling. 
Forgetful. 
I. Regard attentively, notice. 2. Treat with 

I. Situated in front of anything. 2. Easily 

Dark; impervious to light. 



obdurate. 


(L.) 


oblivious. 


(L.) 


observe. 


(L.) 


reverence. 




obvious. 


(L.) 


perceived. 




opacous. 


(L.) 



386 PARADISE LOST. 

opal. (Gr.) A precious stone of varied and variable color. 

Ophiusa. (Gr. = serpent.) A name applied to several islands 
infested with serpents. 

orb. (L.) 1. A sphere. 2. The eye. 3. One of the heavenly 
bodies. 4. One of the concentric spheres of the Ptolemaic system 
(see8+). 

orient. (L) i. Rising. 2. Eastern. 3. Brilliant. 

pall. (L.) I. A mantle. 2. A dark cloth used at a funeral to 
cover the coffin. 3. A robe of state. 

palmar. A pilgrim who bears a palm in his hand, as a sign that 
his pilgrimage has included the Holy Land. 

Pan. A rural divinity of flocks and herds; the god of nature, as 
it is exhibited in rural life. He is represented with the upper part 
of the body like that of a man, save for the short horns on the head, 
and the lower limbs like those of a goat. He carries the " pan- 
pipes," a musical instrument made of seven reeds of different 
lengths. In the age of Elizabeth his name was often applied to 
Christ, considered as the Good Shepherd. 

panoply. (Gr.) Full armor. 

paramount. (Fr) i- Superior in power. 2. Chief. 

paynim. (L. = villager.) Heathen lands or people. The word 
lost its literal meaning in the fourth century, when the people of 
the cities became Christianized while the villagers retained their 
heathen religions. (The same as pagan.) 

pensioner, i. One who receives a pension. 2. A member of 
the retinue of a dignitary. 

pert. (Welsh.) I. Sprightly, brisk. 2. Saucy. 

pester. (L.) i. Encumber. 2, Confine and crowd. 3. Harass. 

Philomel. (Gr. = lover of melody.) The poetic name for the 
nightingale. 

Phineus. A blind Thracian king who was possessed of prophetic 
powers. 

pied. (Fr. = like a magpie.) Marked with various colors. 

pilaster. (L.) A square column partly sunken in a wall. 

pinfold (= pen-fold). A confined space in which cattle are 
shut up. 

Plato. One of the greatest Greek philosophers, especially noted 
for his treatment of the subject of the immortality of the soul and 
the life of the spirit as opposed to that of the senses. This is the 
subject of his dialogue called Phiido. Elsewhere he refers to in- 



GLOSSARY. 387 

corporeal spirits called demons, which seem to correspond to the 
fabulous genii of human beings (see Genius). His followers, called 
Platonists, elaborated the idea of different classes of demons, dwell- 
ing in the four elements (see 4), and mediaeval theology declared 
that these beings were fallen angels dispersed through the elements, 
and that they seduced men to worship them, some as idols, some as 
oracles, some as household gods, some as nymphs, etc. 

pledge. I. A guarantee. 2. Offspring. 

poize. (Fr.) I. Weigh, balance. 2. Lend weight to. 

pregnant. (L. = previous to giving birth.) I. (Of a person.) 
Bearing unborn young. 2. (Of inanimate things.) Productive. 

prevent. (L.) i. Go before. 2. Hinder. 

prone. (L.) i. Inclined forward, or face downward. 2. Dis- 
posed toward. 

proper. (L.) i. One's own; peculiar to oneself. 2. Suitable. 

puissant. (Fr.) Powerful. 

pulse. (Gr.) A general name for leguminous plants, such as 
peas, beans, etc. 

purchase. (Fr.) i. Acquisition. 2. Plunder. 3. Something 
received in return for money. 

purfled. (Fr.) Decorated with an ornamental border. 

purlieu. (Fr.) i. Land adjacent to a forest. 2. A neighbor- 
hood. 

purple. (Gr.) Any shade from scarlet to dark violet. Tyrian 
purple and royal purple were both red (see Grain). 

quaint. (Fr. = known.) i. Notable. 2. Skilful, ingenious. 
3. Curious from strangeness. 

quiU. An Elizabethan word for a reed pipe. 

quip. " A short saying of a sharp wit." 

rapt. (L.) I. Carried away forcibly. 2. Filled with ecstasy. 
3. Entirely absorbed or engrossed. 

rathe. (A.S.) i. Early. 2. Coming before others, or prema- 
turely. 

rebeck. (It.) A fiddle of two (later of three) strings. It was 
introduced by the Moors into England, where it was the parent of 
the viol. 

reck. (A.S.) i. To heed, to feel concerned about. 2. (Used 
impersonally.) It concerns. 

recorder. A slender musical instrument of the flute class; a 
flageolet. 



388 PARADISE LOST. 

round. (O.F.) A dance in which the performers are arranged 
in a circle. 

saffron. (Arab.) i. A species of crocus. 2. A dye made from 
(i). It is orange-red in color, but substances dyed with it have a 
rich yellow tint. 

sampler. (L.) i. A pattern. 2. A piece of fancy-sewed or 
embroidered work done by girls for practice. 

sapphire. (Heb.) A precious stone of a transparent blue color, 
saw. (A.S.) A proverb or maxim, 
scrannel. Thin-toned and harsh-sounding. 
serried. (Fr.) Pressed closely together. 

shell. (A.S.) I. A hard covering of anything. 2. A musical 
instrument shaped hke a tortoise-shell and resembling a lyre in con- 
struction. 

shoon. An old form for the plural of s/we. 

silly. (A.S.) I. Blessed, happy. 2. Innocent, harmless. 3. Sim- 
plcj foolish. 

slope. (A.S. = slip.) Oblique or slanting. 
sock. (L.) A light shoe worn by actors in ancient comedy. 
SOldan. A form of the word " sultan." 
sooth. (A.S.) I. True. 2. Pleasing. 

soundboard. A resonant piece of wood, placed over the wind 
reservoir of an organ, whence the air is admitted to the pipes. 
sped. Provided for. 

starve. (A.S.) To die with hunger, or with cold. 
steep. (A.S.) I. Precipitous. 2. Lofty. 

stem. I. To dam or check a stream, as by the trunk of a tree. 
2. To make progress against a current. 

Stoic. One of a sect of Greek philosophers founded by Zeno 
( uo + B.C.), and named from the « stoa " or porck where he taught. 
Its basal doctrine was that external goods, health, wealth, etc., are 
matters of indifference to the wise man, because virtuous action 
constitutes the only real blessedness. 

stole. (L.) A flowing outer garment worn by women and used 
at times to conceal their features. 

stop. A vent-hole in a wind instrument. 

Stygian An adjective much used by Milton to connote all the 
qualities characteristic of the lower world, such as darkness, repul- 
siveness, horror, etc. 



GLOSSARY. 389 

sublime. (L, = upraised.) i. High in position or rank. 2. To 
vaporize a solid substance by heat, and afterwards solidify it by 
cold. A process similar to that of distilling a liquid. 

succinct. (L.) i. (Of clothing.) Girded up so as not to impede 
motion. 2. (Of language.) Brief. 

swage. (L.) To alleviate, to ease. 

swain. (Ger.) i. A person engaged in husbandry or rustic 
duties. 2. A lover or rustic gallant. 

swart. (A.S.) Black or dark-colored. 

swink. (A.S.) To labor so as to become exhausted. 

swinge. (A.S.) Lash. 

syrtis. (Gr.) A quicksand. 

tale, (A.S. =: number.) i. A count. 2. A number. 3. A 
narrative. 

tease. (A.S.) i . To separate the fibres of wool or flax (gener- 
ally with a comb or card). 2. To raise the nap of cloth. 3. I'o vex. 

tell. (A.S.) I. Count. 2. Recount, narrate. 

Thamyris. A Thracian bard, inventor of the Doric mode {q.v.'). 
He was blinded by the Muses for his assumption of skill superior to 
theirs. 

tiar. (Gr.) A head-dress, a diadem. Commonly spelled tiara. 
Tiresias. A blind Theban prophet. 

topaz. (Gr.) A precious stone, yellowish green or blue in color. 
train. (L. = draw.) i. A snare or trap for an animal. 2. A 
series of persons or things. 3. A retinue. 

traverse. (L. and Fr.) Cross-wise, athwart. 

trick. I. Cheat. 2. Deck or adorn fantastically. 

Trinacria. (L.) A name for the island of Sicily. 

trophy. (Gr.) A memorial of a victory, as a niojiiitnent, or spoils, 

twitch. (A.S.) To draw or pull suddenly. 

uncouth. (A.S. = not known.) i. Unknown. 2. Strange. 
3. Awkward, odd. 

unkindly. Not according to one's class, kind, or nature. 

unsphere. To remove a thing from the sphere in which it abides. 
Beings of different grades were supposed to inhabit the various 
spheres of the Ptolemaic system (see 8 + ). 

urchin, i. A hedgehog, 2. A mischievous spirit that takes at 
times the form of (l). 



390 PARADISE LOST. 

van. I. (L.) A fan or a wing. 2. (Pers.) A caravan or large 
wagon. 3. (Fr. as in vanguard = avant garde?) The front of an 
army. 

viewless. Invisible. 

virtue. (L. = manliness.) i. Valor. 2. Inherent power. 3. 
Goodness. 4. An angel of high rank in the celestial hierarchy 
(see 72), 

votarist. (L.) A person under a vow, a devotee, 

vow. (L.) I. A solemn promise to a deity. 2. A prayer. 

wain. (A.S.) A chariot or wagon. 

wake. (A.S.) i. A vigil kept before a holiday. This vigil, 
originally devoted to religious exercises and meditation, became 
degraded into an occasion for merrymaking and revelry. Hence 
(2) a nocturnal festivity. 

warp. (Swed.) i. To cast. 2. To twist or bend an object out 
of its normal shape. 3. To tow a ship by a line attached to succes- 
sive objects ahead. 4. To swerve from a straight line, to move with 
an undulating motion. 

wassail. (A.S. = be hale.) i, A salutation in drinking. 2. A 
liquor used at festivities, consisting of spiced and sweetened ale or 
wine. 

wattle. To make a network of interwoven twigs. 

weed. I. (A.S. weod.) A troublesome plant. 2. (A.S. w^d.) 
A garment, a scrber dress. 

ween. (A.S.) Imagine, expect, believe. 

welkin. (A.S. = clouds.) The sky. 

welter. (A.S.) i. To roll about in a moist place, as in mud or 
in blood. 2. To rise and fall sluggishly. 

whist. Hushed. 

wight. (A.S.) I. A creature. 2. A human being, a person. 

wind. To give wind to with the mouth, to blow. 

wind. To move with bendjngs and turnings. 

wont. (A.S. = dwell.) Accustomed. 

woof. (A.S.) I. The cross threads in cloth, as distinguished 
from the lengthwise threads, or warp. 2. Cloth, or the texture of 
cloth. 

y-. A prefix attached to the past participle of verbs in Middle 
English, as y-clad, y-rent. 



INDEX. 

[The numbers in light-faced type indicate the pages on which Milton 
makes reference to a given subject ; those in heavy-faced type indicate 
the pages which contain matter explanatory of that subject.] 



Aaron, 79, 176. 
Acheron, 38, 146, 319. 
Adam, 73, 74, 224. 
Ades. (See Hades.) 
Adonis, 50, 112, 334. 
age of gold, 43, 267. 
Ahaz, 82, 113. 
Alcairo. (See Memphis.) 
alchemy, 20, 51, 144, 176. 
Alcides. (See Hercules.) 
allegory, defined, 239. 

of Sin and Death, 149-157, 162, 
228. 
Alpheus, 338, 344. 345. 
Amphitrite, 51, 331. 
anapaest, 13, 14. 
Anchises, 50, 64+, 331. 
Andromeda, 27, 174. 
Angels, nature and orders, 68+. 

abodes, 122. 

fall of rebels, 71, 161, 208. 

— heathen gods, 35, 109, no. 

leaders in revolt, 110-115. 

revolt, 71, 98. 

substance, in, 195, 196, 199, 201. 

worship, 135. 
Anubis, 55, 270. 
Aphrodite, 49. 
Apollo. (See Phoebus.) 
Archangels, 68, 178. 
Arethusa, 338, 344. 

39 



Argo, 58-60, 161. 
Ashtaroth, 49, in, 112, 269. 
Astarte, 49, 112, 334. 
Atlas, 61, 137. 
atoms, 19, 71, 72, 157. 
Aurora, 41, 277, 

Baalim, in, 269. 
Babel, Gl., 57, 121, 171. 
Bacchus, 54, 277, 299, 316. 
Beelzebub, 99, 100, 137. 
Belial, GL, 114, 130+, 200, 
Bellerus, 35, 346. 
Briareos, 42, 104. 
Busiris, 77, 107. 

caesura, 16. 

Cambuscan, Gl., 286. 

Canaan, 75, 80, 174. 

Casius (Mount), 8?, 147. 

Cassiopeia, 27, 283. 

Cerberus, 38, 61, 140, 277. 

Chaos, 41, 140-142, 157+, 159+, 

170, 213+, 310. 
Charybdis, 60, 66+, 161, 307. 
Chemos. (See Peor.) 
Cherubim, 6S, 79, 102, no, 115, 177, 

197, 204, 205, 267, 285. 
Chimaeras, Gl., 148, 316. 
chivalry = cavalry, Gl., 107. 

= crusaders, etc., 57-1- , 117, 123. 
I 



392 



INDEX. 



Cimmeria, Gl., 66, 277. 
Circe, 66, 299, 303, 316. 
Cocytus, 38, 146. 
comets, 30, 151. 
constellations, 23, 175, 195, 266. 

(list), 27-29. 
Cotytto, Gl., 302. 
crystalline sphere, 23+, 172, 215+, 

266. 
Cupid, 50, 313, 334- 
Cynosure, 28, 279, 310. 
Cynthia, 45, 48, 265, 285. 

dactyl, 13, 14. 
Dagon, 81, 113, 269. 
Daphne, 47, 322. 
Death, 74, 97, 149+, 153, 228. 
Delphi, 46, 115, 268. 
Demogorgon, Gl., 160. 
demons, 35, 286. 
Diana, 45, 48, 313. 
Dodona, 44, 86, 115. 
dolphins, 46, 343. 
Dorian, Gl. 

architecture, 121. 

music, 116. 

poetry, 347- 
Dragon (= Satan), Gl., 268. 
Dryades ( = wood-nymphs), 52, 333. 

Earth-born giants, 42, 43, 104. 

eccentric motion, 24, 175. 

Echo. 53, 306, 307. 

eclipses, 29, 117, 344. 

ecliptic, 25, 181. 

E'lt-'n, 73, 97, 186. 

Egyptian gods, 55, 77, 113, 270. 

elements, 19, 35, 136, 143, 180, 214. 

eli.xir, 21, 176. 

elves, 34, 124, 302. 

Elysium, 38+, 171, 282, 307, 334. 

emi)vreal substance, 19, loi. 

epic poetry, 47, 91, 92, 93, 255. 

equinox, 25, 27, 148. 



Erebus, 39, 41, 157, 326. 
essence, Gl., 19, loi, 134, 167. 
ether, 20, 70, 180, 195, 218. 
Euphrosyne, 54, 277. 
Eurydice, 47+, 282. 

Fate, 54, 133, 135, 147, 267. 

Fauns, 52, 342. 

Fesole, 5, 107. 

Firmament, 23, 169, 175, 215. 

fixed stars, 22, 23, 172, 175, 218. 

foot (poetic), 13. 

" forbidden tree," 73, 97, 224. 

Furies, 53, 147, 321, 343. 

Galileo, 5, 32, 107, 176. 
Gehenna, 81+, 88, iii. 
Genius, 52, 269, 288. 
ghosts, origin, 314. 

customs, 33, 34, 271, 313, 314. 
giants, 41, 42, 104, 124, 171. 
Gorgons, 53, 147, 148, 229+, 313. 
Goshen, 76, 88, 107. 
Graces, 54, 277, 333. 
griffin, 56, 159. 

Hades, 38, 39, 40, 47, 61, 66, 159. 

Hammon, 55, 270. 

Harpies, 53, 147, 319. 

Heaven, 32 note, 37, 68+, 71, 122, 

138, 162, 173, 205, 208, 213. 
Hebe, 44, 278, 308. 
Hecate, 33, 134, 302, 317. 
Hell, 99+, 105, 121, 146-148, 149, 

156+, 161, 208. 
Hercules, 59, 60-62, 145. 
Hermes, 21, 54, 176, 321, 332. 

Trismegistus, Gl., 286. 
Hesperian fields, 86, 115. 
Hesperides, 61, 175. 312, 333. 
Hippotades (= Eolus),53, 344. 
Horeb, 76,78, 88,97. ^^4- 
Horns, 55, 113, 270. 
Hours 54, 333. 



INDEX. 



393 



Hydras, Gl., 319, 357. 
Hymen, 50, 281. 

iambus, 13, 14, 
Ida, 44, 115, 284. 
Ilium. (See Troy.) 
Imaus, 57, 170. 
Indian mount, 57, 124. 

wealth, 57, 127. 
influence of Orion, 31, 107. 

of planets, 31, 195, 264. 

of Pleiades, 29, 219. 
Iris, 54, 300, 334. 
Isis, 55, 113, 270. 
Israelites, history, 76-83. 

= " chosen seed," 75, 97. 

desertion of Jehovah, 112, 113+. 

Jacob, 75, 76, 173. 

Javan,75, 114. 

Jehovah, 77, 79, no, 114. 

Josiah, 82, III. 

Jove, 40, 42-44. lis. 284, 326, 341, 

351- 
Juno, 44, 61,63, 323. 
justling rocks, 59, 161. 

Latona, 45, 354. 
Lethe, 38, 146+. 
Libra, 26, 28, 174. 
Limbo, Gl., 172. 
Lucifer, 30, 264. 
Lyric poetry, 

characteristics, 256. 

distinguished from epic, 254+. 

exemplified, 257. 

of Milton, 251. 

Mab, 33, 280. 

manna, 78, 131. 

Medusa, 27, 49, 53, 147, 313+. 

Memnon, 63, 283. 

Memphis, 57, 107, 122, 123, 270. 

Mercury. (See Hermes.) 



Messiah, 71, 83, 202, 206-208, 213. 
metals, 20, 120, 121. 
metaphor, 10. 
metonymy, 11. 
metre, 13-16. 

of Conius, 295+. 

of L' Allegro, 274+. 

of Lycidas, 340. 

oi Nativity Hymn, 258+. 

of Paradise Lost, 93. 

of Sonnets, 348. 
Michael, 

combat with Satan, 193-196. 

commander of God's army, 137, 
191, 205. 

= " vision of the guarded 
mount," 34, 346. 
Milton, 

blindness, 5, 6, 90, 167+ , 358, 
359. 360. 

life, 4. 

lyrics, 4, 89. 

poetic training, 252, 253, 254. 

sonnet-type, 349. 

style, etc., Pref. v, 1-3, 12, 55- 
58. 

use of metre, 14-16, 260, 275. 
Minerva, 48, 314. 
Moloch, 82, no, 128, 270. 
moon and Galileo, 5, 107. 

and eclipses, 29, 117. 

and spirits, 34, 171, 271. 

and witches, 34, 124, 149. 

creation and office, 180, 218. 
Morpheus, GL, 283. 
Moses, 76, 97, no. 
Mount of Offence, 82, 88, in, 112. 
Mulciber. (See Vulcan.) 
Musasus, Gl., 286. 
Muses, 45, 97, no, 167+ , 262, 284, 

316, 341, 343, 351. 
music, Dorian, 116. 

of angels, 225. 

of fallen angels, 121, 145. 



394 



INDEX. 



music, of spheres, 24, note 2; 266, 

301, 306. 
myths, origin, 36. 

of flowers, 47, 53. 

of natural forces, 40. 

significance, 36, 50, 55. 

Naiades (=water-nymphs), 52, 307, 
Narcissus, 53, 306. 
Nepenthes, 64, 322. 
Neptune, 42, 43, 51, 298, 329. 
Nereus, 51, 328, 329. 
nymphs, 52, 53. 

of mountains, 278. 

of sea, 283, 327, 328, 329. 

of woods, 269, 287. 302, 333. 

ocean stream, 37, 41, 51, 66, 104. 

Oceanus, 42, 51, 329. 

CEta (Mount), 62, 145. 

Olympia, 44, 86, 145. 

Olympus, 42-44, 51, 115. 

onomatopoeia, 15. 

Ophiuchus, 28, 150. 

Orcus, 159. (See also Hades.) 

Oreb. (See Horeb.) 

Orion, 29, 31, 107. 

Ormus (= Ormuz), 57, 127. 

Orpheus, 47+, 59, 167, 282, 286, 

343- 
Orus. (See Horus.) 
Osiris. (See Serapis.) 

Pan, 52, 265, 304, 307. 
Paradise, 73, 180, 231, 
Paradise of fools, 172. (See also 

Limbo.) 
Paradise Lost, character, 3, 91 + . 

history, 6, 89+. 

purpose, I, 84+, 98. 
pastoral poetry, 336+. 
pastoral reed or pipe, 300, 310, 337, 

338, 344. 345. 347- 
Pelops, 64, 286. 



Peor, 80, III, 269. 
Pharaoh, 77, 107, 109. 
Philosopher's stone, 21, 176. 
Phlegeton, 38, 146. 
Phlegra, 43, 86, 117. 
Phoebus = god of poetry, 45, 315, 
322, 343, 354. 

= god of sun, 45+, 300, 304. 
planets, 23-26, 31, 195, 286. 
Plato, 35, 38+, 171, 286. 
Pleiades, 29, 219. 
Pluto, 42, 43, 282, 286, 
Poetry, aims in studying, Pref. iv, 
256. 

elements 7-9. 

lyric, 254+. 

methods of studying, Pref. v+. 

ornament, 9. 

pastoral, 336+. 

rhythmic form. 13-15. 
potable gold, 21, 176. 
Primum Mobile, 24, 32. 

appearance, 170. 

creation, 72, 214. 

function, 162, 172, 180. 
Proteus, 51, 176. 
Psyche, 50, 334. 
Pygmies, 56, 117, 124. 
Pythian vale and games, 46, 145, 230. 

quintessence, 20, 180, 215. 

Rhea, 41, 42, 115. 
Rimmon, 83, 113. 

Sabrina, 65-327+. 
Satan, title, 71, 100. 

appearance, 103, 117, 118, 127, 
151, 177, 229. 

craft, 154, 177, 196. 

father of Death, 153. 

father of Sin, 152. 

prowess, 190+ , 193+ • 

punishment, 229, 268. 



INDEX. 



39S 



Satan, rebellion, 71, 98. 

remorse, 118, 185-188. 
Saturn, 41, 42, 43, 115, 284, 327. 
Satyrs, 52, 342. 
Scylla, 60, 66, 149, 161, 307. 
Seraphim, 68, 144, 266. 
Serapis (= Osiris), 55, 57, 113, 122, 

270. 
Serbonis (lake), 88, 147. 
Sericana, 57, 170. 
Siloa (brook), 88, 97, 168. 
simile, 10. 

Sinai, 78, 88, 97, 268. 
Sion (= Zion), 81, 88, 97, no, 112, 

168. 
Sirens, 60, 52, 307. 
Solomon, 81, in. 
spheres, 23-+-, 24 note, 26, 172, 175, 

215, 218, 266, 301, 306. 
style, 9. 

Styx, 38, 105, 146, 275, 302. 
Sylvan (us), 52, 287, 307. 
synecdoche, 11. 

Tantalus, 39, 148. 
Tartarus, 37, 38, 39, 156. 
Taurus, 26, 29, 123. 
Thammuz, 50, 112, 270. 
Thebes, 64, 117, 286. 



Thone, 64, 322. 
Titan (= Oceanus), 42, 114. 
Titans, 41, 42, 104. 
transferred epithet, 12. 
Triton, 51, 329. 
trochee, 13, 14. 

Troy (= Ilium), 62+, 117, 286. 
Typhon (Gr.),43, 104. 
(Egyptian), 55, 271. 

Ulysses, 63-68, 161. 
Uther's son (= Arthur), 57, 89 
note, 117. 

Vallombrosa, 5, 107. 

Venus (goddess) , 49, 63, 277. 
j (planet), 30, 219. 

verse, 13, 15. 
j Vesta, 42, 43, 283. 
j Vulcan (= Mulciber), 49, 122, 321, 



witchcraft, 33, 149. 
World, 32 note. 

creation, 40+, 71-73, 97" 
213-225. 

foretold, 138, 155. 

purpose, 71, 155. 

structure, 17-32, 37. 



180. 



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